


The Prince and the Blade Master

by Ice_CherryBombedbyTY



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Blood and Violence, Graphic Description, M/M, Smut, Swordfighting, Work In Progress, Worldbuilding, taewin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_CherryBombedbyTY/pseuds/Ice_CherryBombedbyTY
Summary: Sicheng led an unremarkable life as a Prince until his father committed him to marry the Crown Princess of Tsuyoi. Sicheng was ready to surrender to his fate, but on the day he met the Princess to formally announce their marriage, their castle was attacked and invaded. Prince Sicheng was almost struck down if not for the mysterious Taeyong, a Royal Envoy.Hunted and fearing for his life, Sicheng had no choice but to let Taeyong lead him to safety without knowing his intentions and journey into an adventure filled with passion, danger and treachery. Should he trust this enigmatic man who spared no one from his sharp blades? Can Sicheng also trust his heart not to fall for this dashing but cold and ruthless Blade Master named Lee Taeyong?





	1. The Four Kingdoms (+Notes on Story)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! ice is back with another potato TaeWin epic (fail... XD) series. i've been itching to write a series again, so here it is, but this is veering off my comfort zone. it's my first time with a fictional history and world so please be kind lol. the story is pretty straight up adventure/romance with some sword fighting/battle scenes. i'm such a fan of fantasy novel series like Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan and LOTR that i just had to do it. so my love for fantasy just jumped out of me so i'll try to do justice to it, hopefully lsjfljsaf XD
> 
> but this isn't a fantasy, merely set in a fictional world for the backdrop of the story. it'll still revolve around TaeWin of course, just that there'll be some issues and conflicts around them that they need to resolve together. anyways, i really hope you like this. thank you so much!

 

 

 

****NOTES ON STORY:** **

before we begin, here's a little preface on the fic. it's really so ambitious of me but, i wanted to write taewin in a royalty au so badly. so i suffered a LOT of research and plotting for almost a month before i could actually write this fic lol. ** **  
****

anyways, since it's set in a fictional world where Taeyong and Sicheng will be traveling through together, I made a map of the relevant places for guidance :)) i'm sorry for the bad drawing lsjflsdj it sucks big time XD but i hope it's enough to help y'all visualize. this is a world where technology doesn't exist so Taeyong and Sicheng will be traveling only by horse-back riding and walking lol. there's one place called Valdavan which i didn't include in the map but is kinda relevant. it's situated way up north and to get there one must travel up the Misty river by boat

 

 

Since this is a world-building fic and all of the lands here are kingdoms, I'll be using the British Monarchy titles, despite the names I used lsjfsdjfl coz it's easier to write and to avoid confusion hehe. I'm sorry, i'm such a lazy cheat XD. Here's one of the references i used for Hereditary Peerages and Noble Titles: **  
**

https://www.chinet.com/~laura/html/titles12.html

Taeyong is proficient in daggers such as these 9-inch Japanese daggers or tantos, which Taeyong straps on either side of his thighs just below the hips:

 

 

and shorter tantos, 5-inch single-edged blades with sharper points, that he uses as throwing knives such as these which he keeps strapped inside his boots just above his ankles:

 

 

but Taeyong's main weapons are dual-wielding 21-inch wakizashi short swords which he straps to his back very much similar to deadpool's katanas and how he wears them strapped to his back. However, Taeyong's wakizashis (Japanese short swords used by the samurai warriors) are shorter in length than katanas  and would look similar to this pic below

 

 

And since Taeyong wields two blades, his maneuverability will be hindered by heavy armor, so he only wears soft leather, kinda like the photos below... well close to it at least lol. Taeyong wears a hooded cloak when traveling, wearing it very loose around the neck and shoulders so he can pull out his blades easily from behind.

 

for TaeWin's hair, i'll be using Regular era's styles. Sicheng's honey brown hair (not the present red) and Taeyong's ash grey blonde and...YES, I'M SORRY I LOVE TAEYONG'S MULLET WITH THOSE CUTE LITTLE BRAIDS DURING THE HOLLYWOOD STREETS PHOTO SHOOT LDJFKJSFJ so in memory of his dearly departed (detachable lol) mullet, i'll be honoring it here. XD

 

 

 

 

_credits to rightful owners of the photos. i don't own any of these, just used it for visuals, ty!_

so, i'm really excited and i'm having a blast writing this. i just hope y'all will like it too. if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask and i would love to hear your thoughts too. anyways, i'll shut up now lol.

thank you for bearing with my potato fics. and if there are inconsistencies, i apologize in advance and you can just let me know if you notice one and i'll correct it. thank you so much and have a good one y'all! - ice <333

 

**[ A/N 28/10/2018**  
  
**HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY BOY SICHENG, I WISH YOU ALL THE SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS THE WHOLE WORLD CAN OFFER. YOU ARE PRECIOUS TO ME AND I LOVE YOU. YOU ARE ALSO AN INSPIRATION. THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR TALENTS AND LOVE TO US. I PRAY YOU ARE ALWAYS HAPPY AND HEALTHY AND DOING WHAT YOU WANT, EATING WHAT YOU WANT AND SLEEPING WHEN YOU WANT TO. BE WELL! I WILL ALWAYS SUPPORT YOU TILL THE END. <333 ]**

 

 

 

 

 

**CHAPTER 1 - The Four Kingdoms**

 

The early morning breeze rippled the King's red velvet cape draped over his white silk shirt and red soft wool trousers as he looked down from the balcony of his bedroom, bejeweled fingers tapping on the granite balustrade. His graying hair was slightly ruffled by the wind, away from his otherwise ruggedly handsome face. The snow had almost melted and spring was about to arrive, with the air bringing in a slight chill which didn't seem to bother him. In all his forty-some years of age, he had become one of the most beloved and magnanimous monarchs.

His Royal Majesty, King Dong Wei Yong's gaze was fixed on the bustling city by the Winzhu River just outside of the Chazhu Castle towering above it. Chazhu was the center of trade and the most civilized, highly developed city among all of Rìchū and the neighboring kingdoms. It was also where the largest market could be found with dozens of shops offering various wares or services, and large inns dotted the cobbled twisting roads that led to the North Bridge and further out to the largest port along the vast and deep Misty River. Kingdoms up north and even as far as lands from the western and southern realms all docked their ships at said Northern Port to trade and re-stock their supplies for their return journey.

It was all thanks to Rìchū's silver mines, the largest in the world, that trade was excellent. Rìchū was one of the wealthiest among the four largest neighboring kingdoms, second only to Kaelaran. It's people seemed happy and content and are fiercely loyal to the Crown. All these made the King proud and it usually brought him some peace of mind, however he was getting desperate and he needed help.

"Your Majesty, what shall we do about the southern border outpost which was attacked by the Chāzi?" asked the King's most trusted advisor and cousin, Lord Wong Lei whose eyebrows were constantly knotted. He hovered impatiently behind the King, waiting for a response.

King Wei Yong balled his fist and jabbed at the granite with apparent irritation. No matter how wealthy his kingdom was, if it were repeatedly attacked this way, his army suffered and re-fitting new soldiers cost a great deal of coin. He cannot afford to lose more soldiers, nor conscript half of the population of his realm. Not after that encounter at the southern borders the previous year that took months to resolve where he had lost almost a thousand of his best warriors. For now, it was a tense truce between Rìchū and Chāzi which also cost him a large chest of silver coins. But it appeared that Rìchū's neighbor was trying to break the truce. He must find a way to strengthen his army and possibly an alliance with one of the kingdoms nearby. During the annual Spring Banquet where all the Royal Families and Nobility gathered to solidify or create new ties, some monarchs had hinted at marrying their children to Prince Sicheng but he did not take them seriously. Perhaps it was about time he took his future plans into consideration.

"Lei, what can you say about an alliance through marriage? Do you think it will help us resolve this problem?"

"I believe so, Sire. Marriage between two kingdoms will definitely solidify an alliance. I... uh... heard whispers that King Yukiko of Tsuyoi's eldest daughter the Crown Princess Nozomi, wanted to marry soon. An alliance with a kingdom with a substantially strong army would greatly benefit us and may very well fortify our borders' security."

"That's true."

"I also heard His Majesty King Hyojin's younger brother, His Grace the Duke of Sarang, has a son of marriageable age."

The King whipped his head up to look at his chief advisor with a frown. " _Son_?"

Lord Lei cleared his throat and had the decency to feel uncomfortable under the King's gaze. "Well, Your Majesty, it is common practice that the third child of a monarch may be married to the same sex mainly for political reasons. So long as they are of high rank and of noble blood. Such has been customary for the past generations in the northern kingdoms. As you very well know, Sire, Her Royal Majesty hails from the north and understands this custom well. It has been a known fact that they have concubines of their own during such marriage and even allowed their offspring to carry the titles. There are certain rules, however. Why...one of the court Ladies told me...how one Duke had two concubines and the three of..."

"Lord Wong Lei, information on such matters are hardly to be spoken aloud, much less discuss it with...with court Ladies! And yes... I am well aware that my... the Queen hails from the northern kingdoms." The King's cheeks bloomed a rosy pink.

Lord Lei coughed to disguise the chortle that threatened to escape him. "I apologize Your Majesty. But you know I speak the truth. If, for example, His Highness Prince Sicheng were to marry the Duke of Sarang's eldest son, the Marquess of Sarang... well you shall have the world's most powerful army of legions from Kaelaran at your disposal, not to mention the naval fleet His Grace also commands. Open trade with Kaelaran would only be a bonus. As you know, Sire, the Duke of Sarang is the younger brother of His Majesty, King Hyojin of Kaelaran. He used to be a Prince, until after their father the former King bestowed the Sarang Dukedom to His Grace when he married his wife. The Marquess is of Royal Blood and from a very powerful family."

The King paused and seemed to consider his cousin's response. "Call my two sons to my chambers. I want us all to discuss something that might help settle all this scuffling with the Chāzi and that greedy self-proclaimed King Wong Cuànwèi who killed my grandfather and stole two-thirds of our country," King Wei Yong ordered over his shoulder. His advisor frowned.

" _Two_ sons, Your Majesty?"

The King turned and walked back into the bedroom with a frown. "Yes, Lei two sons. _Older_ and married sons."

"As you say, Your Majesty. I will not inform Prince Sicheng then." Lord Lei bowed and excused himself to call the two Princes to the chambers just outside of the bedroom.

The King sighed and rolled his eyes impatiently. At times he wondered if his cousin had addled his brain from too much worrying. That permanent scowl only deepened when he was perturbed or upset but it never left his otherwise handsome face. It was a wonder that his cousin had clearly read his thoughts, although he was hardly surprised. Lei may be somewhat eccentric but he was smart and he performed his office excellently. His plans might as well be the only thing that will protect his kingdom. All he could hope for was for his son Sicheng to accept his duty without running amok.

The King felt the beginnings of a headache. He knew that if the plans he had been mulling over for weeks was set into motion, there would be turmoil within the castle for days or possibly even weeks. But he had no choice. Somehow he needed for his son to understand the consequences if he declined. Surely, he would understand.

Moments later, the King and his two sons were sitting at the breakfast table on the King's patio just outside of his chambers sipping freshly brewed tea. The large table was laden with youtiao, steamed buns stuffed with an assortment of meats, dim-sum, boiled eggs and fruits. A huge pot of steaming congee was at the center of the table as well. But none of them had the appetite to indulge in the sumptuous servings. They had a serious look on their faces as they discussed in hushed voices while the servants hovered around them, quietly refilling their teacups.

"Father, do you think this is a good idea? I mean, will His Majesty the King of Kaelaran allow it? I heard the widower King adores the Marquess of Sarang more than his own daughters and may as well dub him Crown Prince since he has no living male heirs at the moment." King Wei Yong's eldest son, the Crown Prince Quiang asked as he swept back his dark hair with his fingers. He was also as good-looking as his father, maybe even more so. Marriage to his wife, the Crown Princess Mei Lin, suited him. It was not even a year that the Crown Princess bore him a daughter, Princess Wang Shu, with another on the way. Hopefully a boy this time.

"If I may say so Father, it's a great idea," Prince Feng Mian interjected. He was not as tall nor striking as his brothers, but he was very smart. Scholarly, almost. Possibly why Princess Wang Hui Yin who was also a poet was attracted to him and married him just recently. "Kaelaran is the most powerful kingdom in this part of the world. It's legion of elite warriors, the Jeonsa, are undefeatable. One luxury we don't have at the moment, since our own Zhànshì warriors keep dying while defending our borders to the south."

The King sighed as he put down the teacup. "That is true son. The fact is, since Cuànwèi has held Chāzi for over three decades, he has amassed a huge army not only from there but also from his homeland."

"And they seem to be very prolific. It's as if they produce warriors by the hour," Prince Quiang snorted.

King Wei Yong balled his fist and let out a curse, startling the two Princes. "Sicheng cannot decline this. By the morrow, we will use the network of pigeons to deliver a message to both Kaelaran and Tsuyoi for an alliance thru marriage. It will only take less than a week to receive an answer from either one **."**

"But Father, what if both accept?" queried the elder Prince.

The King considered his son's question before replying, "then we send the message to Kaelaran first. If they decline, Tsuyoi will be our only hope. I have one worry though. If Sicheng finds out that he is to marry either the Marquess of Sarang or the Crown Princess of Tsuyoi, he might not be happy. But he has no choice in the matter."

The two brothers nodded in agreement and then the younger Prince said, "Father, about the Spring Banquet, are you not coming with us? I heard you and Quiang will be staying behind?"

"I am needed here, and so with your brother," the King responded.

"Will Princess Mei Lin be able to travel?" the younger Prince asked worriedly.

"I was assured by my wife she can travel by ship, so it should be fine. And so long as she doesn't ride on a horse but a carriage."

"Very well. Feng Mian, you go with your Mother and the Princesses and take care of them. Bring two dozens of the best warriors to protect you."

"As you wish Father."

Unbeknownst to the three, a slim figure hovered by the doorway quietly and overheard the last half of the conversation. His fists balled not in anger but in frustration, and a frown marred his angelic face. He cannot be 'sold off' as such like a large chunk of meat on a hawker's table. He wanted to lead a life of his own. He was not a pawn to be pushed to and fro on a chess table.

His Royal Highness Prince Sicheng turned and walked determinedly away from the patio and out towards the main hall. He needed to ride his black mood off. Bohai his retainer, at his heels.

"Send for my horse."

"Yes, Your Highness," Bohai replied with a calm expression that belied the slightly detectable worry in his voice.

***

The Marquess of Sarang stood by the window, the sunlight filtering through it tracing his silhouette as though he glowed, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim body. He spun around and scowled at his father the Duke. "How could you impose such a thing on me, Father? I would rather stay here and help you with your affairs, aid His Majesty or even clean the stables."

The Duke ignored his son's quip and dark expression. "Son, we need that alliance. Imagine our two countries having control over the Misty River leading to the Northern realms. Both of our ports will benefit from it. Not only that, we can trade with their sterling silver for our abundant coal and perhaps some of our gold. These are little things if you consider it but it's effect on our economy is great."

"Please. No, Father."

"Are you not in the least curious? I heard the Prince is highly intelligent and very athletic. I heard whispers he is more beautiful than an angel. But most of all, the Noble Ladies of Northern Courts are all after him. With the two of you together...and with those Ladies..."

"Really, Father. You have been to the northern realms for far too long," the Marquess said sarcastically, noting how his father insinuated at the northern realms’ excessive penchant for sexual exploits and blatant eroticism. His father seemed unperturbed.

"So were you. Nonetheless, it is about time you considered your position in this Court. Your uncle, His Majesty, is relying on you. He sees you as his own son. You cannot let him down. He wants this alliance to happen."

Lord Sarang was adamant. "No, Father. If this is so important to you, maybe your younger son will do. He will be of age soon."

"But you are the Marquess, my eldest and the heir to my title and the only Dukedom in Kaelaran," the Duke of Sarang insisted.

"Then please strip me of my title and make my younger brother the Marquess instead. Now I beg your pardon but I must leave to attend to other more important matters. Your Grace." With that, he bowed deeply then turned on his heels and left the Duke's study.

The Duke sniffed but let his son go, mildly annoyed at such crude behavior.

"Your Grace? Shall I inform them through messenger pigeons that His Lordship has declined?" the Duke's retainer asked softly.

"I guess we have no choice in the matter but to decline."

"Very well, Your Grace." The retainer hid his grin when he saw the Duke smile and lean back on his leather chair, tapping his fingers on the armrests. He knew his master well. He was sure that apart from a seed that has been planted into his son's mind, the Duke had something else up his sleeve. He stepped out of the study in high spirits, anticipating the next events to come.

***

His Majesty King Asumi Yukkiko sat in his bedroom in front of a warm fireplace lounging on a plush leather chair. At quiet moments such as these, he missed his dearly departed wife, but was content to have his daughter, the Crown Princess Nozomi sitting at his feet with her hands and chin resting on his knee.

"Why can't I marry the Prince of Rìchū, Papa?" She asked the question with a pout that said she often got her way. She was a pretty young lady with full lips and dark sultry eyes. And her father, His Majesty King Asumi Yukiko made everything easier for her. "I heard from the Ladies at court that he is perfect. I want to be his wife!" Puckered lips punctuated her declaration and the King sighed.

"You're still too young. You have barely reached two decades my dear and you're my only daughter. I can't let you go just yet."

"Papa..."

"Besides, don't you think the Marquess of Sarang a wiser choice? He is also a dignified young man. I had spoken to his uncle King Hyojin before and he hinted at you two as a good match and I agree to that," the King said lightly.

"I don't like him. He looks too... stern and aloof. Not once did he look at me when we attended their hunting party last summer. Besides, I heard he had rejected the proposal from Rìchū first. He’s an idiot and let a good thing slip from his fingers."

The King sighed resignedly once more. It was proving more and more difficult to tame his daughter. He looked down on her uplifted face and her twinkling eyes. Such innocence. Perhaps letting her marry Prince Sicheng wasn't a bad idea after all. Alliance with Rìchū would prove very useful in strengthening their armies and free access to their port was advantageous.

"Alright my pet," King Yukkiko yielded. "I will send word that we've accepted the proposal immediately."

The Crown Princess squealed as she stood up and hugged her father before running out of the room, yellow tulle gown trailing behind her, no doubt to talk to her Ladies-in-Waiting. The King shook his head as he watched his daughter go. Not wanting her to marry Prince Sicheng wasn't only because he didn't want her to leave, but also that it was politically and strategically unwise. Their lands were separated by Chāzi which was on the brink of hostility when it came to their relations. He could understand why Rìchū went to the more powerful and wealthier kingdom of Kaelaran first. Tsuyoi was lucky enough to not be the focus of attention by their neighbor due to the fact that Rìchū was the target of their harassment. The King of Chāzi was eager to claim the Northern port for himself was the main reason, and he knew this as the truth.

However, if one thought of the greatest advantage out of such an alliance with Rìchū, it would be marriage of his daughter to a very rich nation. When he passes on she will become Queen, as is customary in Tsuyoi that the eldest child shall rule the land no matter what sex. Once that happens, she will have free reign on the Northern Port thru her then husband Prince Sicheng, and access to it's trade route into the northern and western kingdoms. Even his sons knew this.

"Yukkuri," King Yukkiko called out to his retainer.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Prepare for the Crown Princess's journey to the north. She must sail to Chazhu as soon as possible."

"Very good, Sire."

***

King Wong Cuànwèi of Chāzi lay on a chaise in his nightshirt, laughing as the naked wench straddled him and took his hard shaft inside her then started grinding and humping.

"Oohh that's it, ride your King harder," King Cuànwèi said as he held the goblet in one hand, the wine sloshing about with each movement, and roughly fondling the woman's breast in the other as they both groaned in pleasure. "Faster!"

Without warning the enormous oak doors of the bedroom burst open to reveal the panting messenger trying to catch his breath as he bended on one knee and bowed. "Y-your M-majest-ty! I...I b-bring dire news!"

"You imbecile! Can't you see your King is busy? I'll have you hung for this!"

"Apologies, Sire! I'm ready to die just to bear the news. B-but your Majesty... King Wei Yong's youngest son is... to be married to Crown Princess Nozomi of Tsuyoi in a fortnight. The Princess is voyaging over the Blood Sea to meet the Prince as we speak. She will arrive at Rìchū the day before the wedding if the winds make haste. "

The woman on top of the King merely looked disinterested and continued to motion up and down on the King's member. But King Cuànwèi sat up and pushed her away violently till she fell off to the side with a cry. He was a tall and stocky man, and very strong. His weathered grisly face contorted in anger and his graying hair seemed to bristle.

"How did this happen without my knowledge?"

"They used pigeons Your Majesty, not messengers on horseback."

"Those bastards think they can outwit me, is that it?" The king threw his goblet at the messenger who cringed in fright. "Send word to my brother to gather the armies and order them to march toward the southeastern borders. They won't see us coming. Those wretched Dongs will taste my blade once more. I will wipe out every single one of them this time. They will know blood."

"Yes, Sire."

The shaken messenger stood up to bow awkwardly and jumped, almost running out of the room after the King shouted. "Now!"

King Cuànwèi stood fuming and just noticed the naked woman cowering in fright, trying to shield herself with her arms. "You dare to cover yourself after servicing me?" The king sauntered over to the woman who now stood wide-eyed.

"N-no Your M-majesty," she croaked.

"Come here!" The King grabbed her by the neck and bent her over the backrest of the chaise. With the woman doubled over, the King situated himself and entered her from behind, thrusting hard repeatedly as he held the wench's neck with two hands.

The King felt his fury mounting as he pumped into the woman. Those two kingdoms cannot form an alliance behind his back. If they succeed, he will be caught between two more powerful kingdoms with a combined army attacking on both sides and he would be left vulnerable. King Cuànwèi knew that the land he now reigned over used to be part of the Monarchy of Rìchū. But he was ambitious and never satisfied, pushing back Rìchū's borders until Chāzi grew larger. Yet he wanted more.

King Cuànwèi was a brilliant tactician and he was able to invade Chāzi after a long battle that lasted for three long years, he claimed it as his own at the age of twenty-three. He had been ruling the country for the last thirty-five years. His brother Mingdao is now the Steward of his homeland Xiao Yong. The King of two lands. But now they threaten his claims by marrying off their weak offspring, he thought. He will not have it. The King felt his anger overcoming him and was close to his orgasm.

King Cuànwèi groaned as he released his seed inside of the limp body. The king snorted as he pulled out of the woman who had fainted while he subconsciously choked her.

"Is anyone out there?"

A liveried servant entered the room and bowed. "Your Majesty."

"Remove this wench from my bedroom. I am in need of rest," the King ordered and smiled wickedly.

"Yes, Sire."

"Tomorrow call out all my generals and advisors. In a fortnight we shall go to war."

 


	2. The Prince

 

 

 

 

His Royal Highness, Prince Sicheng of Rìchū laughed as he felt the wind rushing against his face, blowing through his honey brown hair. The hood of his emerald green riding cloak fell back on his shoulders to reveal the soft features of his face. His dark brown almond eyes which easily expressed his emotions and his aquiline nose over luscious full lips more often than not stole people's attention. Prince Sicheng's presence demanded notice which he never sought. He preferred the quiet solitude of his own study where he was often found reading or playing chess with his brothers when they were not away on official business.

The Prince leaned forward, riding low on the the chestnut thoroughbred mare and nudged it into a faster gallop knowing Wind loved the exercise much more than he did. When he rode Wind it was as if they were one. He felt uninhibited and that he could go anywhere he wanted and do anything he pleased without prying eyes. Prince Sicheng rode the horse through the wooded valley outside the castle and away from the city gates. He could hear the shouted protests from his wardens Liang and Yiwu from far back. They were seasoned warriors but since the Prince was the better rider, by the time he reached the secluded pond they were nowhere in sight.

Looking behind him, Prince Sicheng could see he had lost his shadows and smiled, thankful his wardens have yet to discover his new hideout. It was always this way with those two. Sicheng could easily outride them with his thoroughbred so he can have a few moments to himself with no one watching him, no one following him to remind him he was a Prince and that he had duties, to be respectable and needed to be dignified and reserved. He didn't think it was a necessity, being the third Prince. Not that he was wily and carefree as his father the King always portrayed him to be. They never understood that he just wanted some time of his own to be himself. Time that he could control, not the other way around. He felt tired of all the obligations and responsibilities constantly being reminded by his tutors and his family, incessantly reiterating that he should act like the Prince that he was. _You are Royalty not a common peasant who can tromp about complaining that you are never allowed to do as you please!_ His father's words. He didn't think he 'tromped' about. He was already a year past two decades. He was not a child but they all treated him as such. He knew all of it was of import, just that sometimes he needed to escape to a world of his own. A reprieve.

The Prince grimaced as he got off his horse and tied him to a tree by the edge of the pond. He had always told his father he was safe and he could take care of himself, that he needed no wardens. His father ordered two to follow him around instead of the one. He sat on the huge bark jutting out of the grass covered earth to stretch his legs and leaned his head back as he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath to take in the earthy air and enjoyed the peaceful serenity the woods offered. It was a rare treat these past weeks for him to escape this way and he relished each moment.

Since that day when he overheard his father and brothers speaking about his marriage behind his back, his life had been in turmoil. Or at the very least that was how he felt. He recalled the time when he spoke to his father regarding the arranged marriage, and how he had stormed into his father's study in a fit at the first opportunity.

"Father, please help me understand. Why am I being sold off to that overzealous flirt Princess Yukiko for Tsuyoi's armies? And to even considered marriage with the Marquess of Sarang first, whom I have not even seen in the flesh since he never attended Spring Banquets? I heard the reason why he never attended them is because he is uncouth, ill-bred, a snob and horridly scarred! Not... not to mention that he... is a _HE_!"

The Prince remembered his father had merely raised his eyebrows at his tirade. Then the King responded calmly, "does the sex matter?”

“Does sex...what has come over you Father?” Prince Sicheng gaped and couldn’t believe his ears.

“I hope you remember that you are a Prince and your duty is to secure and protect your country. Have you lost all maturity and forgotten everything your tutors have taught you all these years?" said the King emphatically.

"I do remember! But that doesn't mean you can just throw me out of the castle to some far off land where I know no one! And without my knowledge nor approval! It's barbaric and unfair," the Prince had said in an outburst. "I'm telling mother!"

"Your mother cannot change a Royal Decree," the King replied trying to keep his patience. "Need I tell you for the hundredth time you are a Prince and not a commoner? You do not have the luxury to say what is fair or unfair. Your grandfather died protecting our lands. Your brothers were married in the same manner to secure our kingdom. Your mother and I were arranged to be married as well, as you are now betrothed. All of us have grown to love our spouses and care deeply for each other. I do not understand why it is unfair to you, when our family has the duty to do everything necessary to ensure our people and lands are kept safe and provide for their needs. We live for them, not the other way around."

"You were all lucky. I see no happiness in my future with that... that pickled fruit! I think you're just allowing this because I'm unimportant and you don't care how I feel. I would rather become a commoner than marry that tart!"

King Wei Yong pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up. "Prince Dong Sicheng! You must control yourself. I will not tolerate this behavior. I have already sent word and the King of Tsuyoi has agreed to my terms. It is beneficial to both our nations and strengthen our alliance. Now, leave before I have you whipped for this."

"You never had me whipped!"

"There is always a first time."

"I am no child Father!"

"But you are acting like one."

The King and his son stared at one another in a contest of sorts, glaring at each other for a few moments until the Prince backed down, lips in a thin line.

"I apologize, _Your Majesty_. I shall do as you please. I shall now take my leave," Sicheng had declared with a bow before stomping out of the room, red and bristling from frustration.

Prince Sicheng tightened his lips as he remembered what his mother had told him when he sought her in her chambers while she was reviewing the accounting of expenses for the coming wedding banquet the following month.

"Mother..."

Her Royal Majesty the Queen Yu Yan looked up, stepped away gracefully from her desk and led Prince Sicheng on the plush velvet couch. He recalled laying his head on her lap, careful not to crease her cream muslin gown, close to tears. He never knew why but whenever he saw his mother, he crumbled and weakened. His resolve became non-existent. He loved his mother dearly, more than anything in the world and he stared up at her beautiful face. She gazed down on him with her soft brown eyes and gave him a dimpled smile, much similar to his own.

"My dear son, did you know I loathed your father the moment I laid eyes on him?" Queen Yu Yan began caressing her son's soft hair.

"R-really?"

"Yes. He was obnoxious to me, very uptight and aloof. He ignored me for the most part of our betrothal, but soon he became more polite and I tolerated him. After we were married, he became friendly and caring. Through the years of our marriage we had grown to love one another and we cannot bear to be separated for very long. We have become good friends outside of the chambers and the best of lovers inside."

"Mother!" Prince Sicheng gaped at his mother's brashness.

The Queen's laugh was musical to Prince Sicheng's ears. "Don't pretend to be so shocked, Sicheng. You are an adult and must already know of such things. You are to be married soon."

Prince Sicheng didn't want to think of it. But what prevailed in his mind was that obviously his father and mother were deeply in love to anyone who witnessed them together. Their eyes sparkled when they gazed at one another, even now. He had wished for something similar to what they possessed, but he knew now it was even more impossible. "I can never have what you have, Mother. If I'm to marry that fruitcake, I might go insane after a few days."

"Hush! Don't say that, son. Princess Yukiko may be... eccentric, but she is intelligent and she is the future Monarch of Tsuyoi. You should be happy and be thankful they accepted your father's proposal."

"I heard Father sent a boatload of silks and silver," Prince Sicheng mumbled in contempt.

"Well that is an exaggeration. But yes, he did send an acceptance offering. It isn't all that bad, Sicheng. I know you'll find happiness and contentment as well."

Prince Sicheng took a deep breath before he responded. "I do not think so. He doesn't love me. Father hates me and sees me as useless that's why he's willing to use me as a bait. He even considered marrying me off to the Marquess of Sarang first! Mother, the _Marquess_!"

"I don't believe that he hates you. He wants what's best for you. The Marquess, I heard about that. The Marquess of Sarang, if I were to be blunt, would have been a better choice. He is also of Royal blood and he comes from a very influential family. His uncle King Hyojin used to play polo with your Father during Spring Banquets. I remember he mentioned if only his daughters were old enough he would have married them off to your elder brothers. Not only that, he hinted about his nephew, the Marquess."

"Has the northern customs influenced the southern lands so, that Father and Uncle Lei take these things lightly?" Prince Sicheng shook his head in wonder.

The Queen smiled once more, amused at her son's prudishness. "What is so terrible at marrying the Marquess when you can... also enjoy each other's company with... immense pleasure. I should have had you tutored with it more."

" _Your Royal Majesty_! I can't believe you can even suggest... such... " Prince Sicheng sat up to gape at his mother, as if seeing her for the first time. "Unbelievable...wait, _more_?"

Queen Yu Yan laughed heartily, throwing her head back with her unbraided long dark hair shimmering from the afternoon sunlight streaming through the huge open window. Prince Sicheng was amazed, almost shocked at his mother's behavior which was the exact opposite of when they were in public. He had almost forgotten his mother was a daughter of a Duke from the northern realms. Almost.

"Oh please, I know you secretly read some of my books from the north about... certain topics."

"I... c-certainly did not!" Prince Sicheng had the decency to blush.

The Queen raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling, but didn't say anything more of it. Then she continued on, changing the subject. "Seriously though, I trust your father and he knows what he's doing. He is the King after all. He fought well against the Chazi and their horrid King. He couldn't get to your late Grandfather because the battle here was even more fierce. But he held the castle and defeated that King Cuànwèi's brother and his armies, driving them back to the south." The Queen sounded proud of her husband and Prince Sicheng noticed it. "He is a great man, your Father. A kind and wise King, yet strong and resilient. And so are you."

"Mother please, you're just saying that to make me feel better. I have done nothing but read books, ride Wind through the countryside and harass the Scholars and Tutors, and even hide from sword practice."

"And also helped me in attending to the peasants, give water and rations to our farmers and workers, tell stories to their children, and even take care of the sick ones without fear of catching it. You may not know it but you are the kindest and most loving Prince of all of Richū," the Queen said softly, still brushing his hair with her delicate fingers. "My favorite Prince. But that's a secret so don't tell anyone."

Prince Sicheng had to smile. "Mothers really know how to make their children feel good about themselves."

"We are great at it," said the Queen and winked at her son. "However, I speak the truth. And I shall tell you another secret, Son. You must follow your instincts and listen to your heart. Trust your own judgement. If you do, you will never go wrong. Of that, I am sure of. You are wise and intelligent so I am confident that whatever you do, it will be the right thing."

The Prince could still remember the sweet rose scent of his mother, her soft hair on his cheek as he hugged her. He knew the wisdom in her words. He must always trust his instincts and listen to his heart. So why was his heart screaming no? Why was he rebelling at the very thought of marrying the Princess? For the past weeks he had been so confused and had distanced himself from everyone, including his mother. When the Queen the rest of his family left for the Spring Banquet to be held in Valdavan, Prince Sicheng almost broke when his mother gave him a tight embrace. "I will be back in time for the wedding. I love you, my favorite Prince," she had whispered in his ear. He had shed tears on his pillow that first night his mother was not in the castle.

Prince Sicheng still performed whatever they told had him to do. Accepted all the duties they laid down for him and he did them willingly, even wholeheartedly. But his mind was a mess, and the closer the day he had to face the Princess and marry her, the greater his distress. He could not get a decent night's sleep nor eat a proper meal.

Then the Prince had to smile at the recall of his mother's teasing him about reading the books from the northern realms. He had been shaken to the very core after he had read some parts and seen some drawings. They were very accurate. He had never, for the life of him, imagined such acts were possible, especially with two males. He had to admit even to himself that seeing those depictions and reading the acts in detail had awoken... things... in him. The Prince blushed profusely, and felt his cheeks burn even with his eyes closed.

"Oooh, look here boys! This pretty thing right here is smiling and turning pink. I wonder what lewd thoughts he be thinking?"

The raspy voice sounded like a snake slithering over dead leaves and the Prince's eyes flew open. His heart leapt to his throat when he realized he was surrounded by five stocky, filthy bandits. One of them stood towering over him and had a sword to his side. Wind snorted and started stomping his front hoof, sensing her master's agitation.Their pungent, unwashed smell made Prince Sicheng wrinkle his nose.

"Hah! The pretty boy here thinks we're disgusting are we?" The older, more weathered looking man said, his eyes filled with spite.

"Well, it seems he thinks we be lowly and don't deserve of his company," said the man who first spoke. His hand rested on his sword's pommel, caressing it. "Maybe we should teach this pretty snob a lesson he won't be forgetting soon, aye? Strip him of his fine silk shirt and rich velvet pants, and that cloak looks more expensive than my wife."

The older man nodded while the others laughed throatily. Prince Sicheng suddenly felt very afraid, and realized he was unarmed. He suddenly wished he had learned enough of the martial arts his father had insisted on him learning which he very firmly declined. Where were his wardens when he needed them?

"Are yah lost M'lord? You look like you not be needin' them golden things on yah fingers and 'roun yah neck too ," the youngest of them said. He appeared no more than fifteen years, yet he had a dangerous look in his eyes as he unsheathed his rusty dagger. Or was it dried blood? Prince Sicheng shuddered but tried his best to appear calm.

"It seems to me you are not from around here. The patrols go by this route and if they catch you, His Majesty the King will have certainly your head. He does not take kindly to banditry and..."

"Who? Your King don care 'bout that, 'cause he be busy fightin' the borders."

"Kings don't fight themselves. Er... do they, Temu?"

"Maybe. But I don't think he'll be missin' just one noble here. There are too many of them anyway so one less snob won't matter."

The Prince stood up slowly and began to step away from the man before him. "I don't want any trouble. If I can just help you to be on your way..."

The man before Prince Sicheng unsheathed his rusty sword. No, bloody sword, and aimed the point at the Prince's throat. Prince Sicheng swallowed nervously. He had to be very careful now. One wrong move or word, his betrothed could become a widow even before they were married.

"Where do you think you're going, pretty noble? _M'Lord_?"

"Yah, we still havin' fun! I want them rings, the one with the shiny big red stone. That will be mine!"

"Wait! If he be noble, his family have plenty of gold. We can kill him and ask payment for his pretty head!" The older man said, rubbing his hands together.

"You mean take his head off an' bring it to his house?" the greedy young man said, licking his lips.

"No, idiots. If he be dead them family won't pay!"

"But those glittering jewels alone cost a fortune. We can just kill him, take those and be gone."

"Yah, we take 'em off his dead body. Dem shiny boots are mine."

Someone cleared his throat audibly, interrupting the interchange.

"Excuse me _gentlemen_ , but no one is taking off anything from any dead body. Not while I'm alive," the relatively deep and slightly husky voice from behind them declared.

All six heads turned to see who the voice's owner was and garnered different reactions. However, the Prince's was that of awe.

The mysterious man was clad in a silk shirt under a protective leather vest and tucked in snug hide trousers, as well as the bracers wrapped on his forearms, which were all in the same color. Black. Even his leather boots that reached high above the calves were made of blackened suede. But what caught Prince Sicheng's attention were two long daggers strapped to either side of his long legs, just below the hips as well as the two sword grips wound with black silk rope jutting above his broad shoulders. Short swords strapped crosswise to his back, barely covered by his heavy black woolen cloak. He looked very ominous. Very deadly.

The Prince had seen his fair share of good-looking men in his life, but this man was nowhere in their league. This man was perfect. The Prince took in those curved lips, the pert nose and the strong jawline. His hair was ash grey which partly covered his well defined brows and reached way past the nape with three equally spaced tiny braids at the back just resting on his shirt collar. A small scar like the shape of a butterfly was at the corner of his right eye that seemed to make him even more attractive.  However, what made Prince Sicheng catch his breath were the man's eyes. They were large, dark piercing eyes that seemed to bore through his soul.

That moment, he knew that this man who appeared out of nowhere was even more dangerous than all these bandits combined, and more. And for the first time, the Prince was intrigued.

 


	3. The Blade Master

 

 

 

Lee Taeyong could feel the dagger looks thrown at his back by his companion trailing behind him as they rode up the slope to the top of a small hill overlooking the valley below. He was tired of his retainer's incessant whining about how they should have journeyed from the Haedodi Fortress docks via a schooner on the Hamae River that led out to the Blood Sea to get to Rìchū's Northern Port. Instead, Taeyong had chosen to go by land from Gajang-gin road and thru several fishing villages in order take the ferry to cross the Misty River. Explaining to his retainer that it was faster and would have lessened their travel time by several days didn't seem to help remove the almost permanent scowl on his face. Sometimes Taeyong wondered why he kept up with his servant's almost distastefully blunt attitude.

They had disembarked from the ferry and had to ride on horseback for miles off the paved road from the Northern port to avoid the heavy influx of people, horses and carriages, to reach the hill they were on at that moment. They had been traveling for over two weeks and Taeyong had to admit his backside was beginning to feel numb. Occasionally stopping at pubs or inns and taverns alleviated the weariness only but a little. He could understand why his retainer Wong Yukhei was complaining, for he felt himself close to being exhausted.

To the protests of his retainer, they had ridden hard at longer distances to reach their destination quickly. Taeyong just wanted to get over his task and be done with it so he can return back home. He frowned when the King had assigned the task to him.

"I need you to be my Royal Envoy to the Rìchū Kingdom, Taeyong." King Hyojin smiled at him with twinkling eyes. Taeyong almost snorted. "Present these tributes to Prince Sicheng and his future wife. It is important to maintain that we are still allies and have not... _snubbed_ them."

"But Your Majesty..."

The King raised an eyebrow and showed a disapproving look on his shrewd face. Taeyong had steeled himself, swallowing any more protests.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Taeyong said and bowed deeply before taking the small box from the King's retainer.

Taeyong sighed and shook his head at being demoted to such a menial task. He was sure it was a form of punishment. He reined in his black thoroughbred on the small plateau while gazing at the distance and found his destination. Chazhu Castle, sitting atop a hill overlooking the city below. His stallion Midnight blew through it's nose when they stopped, immediately looking bored. Taeyong patted the thoroughbred's neck. "You already had lots of exercise."

"Your Lo-" Yukhei began but stumbled over his words at the sharp look from Taeyong. "I mean... Master, I can look for a good tavern and see to our lodgings for the night or would you rather go directly and stay at the castle?"

"We're too early. I didn't see the Royal Flagship among those docked at the port when we passed it. The Princess may still be at sea, but will be arriving soon. We can go to a tavern as you suggested," Taeyong said, squinting at the large city.

"I'll finally be having a warm cup of sweet Baijiu to quench my thirst."

"We'll spend the night there."

"Oh thank the hea—vens." Yukhei's exclamation was stalled by some raucous laughter coming from downhill by the valley not far off.

Taeyong frowned as he peered through a copse, noting a group of men by the small pond. Something told him to investigate it, his instinct kicking in. It was one of the skills he had developed when he trained under the tutelage of a Master Swordsman from the north, where he spent more than half of his life.

"Come Midnight, there might be trouble," Taeyong said softly and his stallion snorted. Yukhei however, rolled his eyes.

"My... Master, we really shouldn't get inv—"

"Stay behind," Taeyong ordered from over his shoulder, veering the reins to the left and rode the horse toward the loud voices.

"There goes my warm wine..." Yukhei grumbled in complaint, but nudged his stallion to follow. "Come Xuxi, we must abide with our Master's wishes."

Taeyong egged his horse downhill in a slow trot, and as he came closer to the copse he could see the men were bandits, obviously picking at their prey. A nobleman most likely of a high rank, Taeyong noted with his keen eyes. He got off his horse after pulling the reins to stop and walked slowly towards the group of bandits. Taeyong could see the would-be victim looking very uncomfortable at sword-point and almost scared from behind the stocky man but he couldn't see his face. He cleared his throat to get the bandit's attention.

"Excuse me _gentlemen_ , but no one is taking off anything from any dead body. Not while I'm alive," Taeyong said, interrupting them.

They all turned to look at him and it was then that Taeyong had a clear view of the bandit's prey. For some reason Taeyong couldn't fathom, he caught his breath when he saw the man's face. Those soft almond eyes reflecting fear while his full lips quivered mesmerized Taeyong. The nobleman had a look of tenderness about him, a gentleness exuding from him and a vulnerability that tugged at Taeyong's protective instincts. Taeyong caught himself and cursed inwardly. What was wrong with him? Perhaps it was just pity. _Pity.Yes, that was it._ The _only_ reason why he wanted to help even more.

The men all turned to face him and Taeyong noticed them pulling out their daggers as they stepped closer. Taeyong noticed how they held their weapons and it became obvious to him they weren't skilled fighters. He knew he didn't even have to use his own blades and yet could debilitate them for life.

The middle-aged man with the longsword took an ominous step towards Taeyong and the latter just looked at him blankly.

"Turn back fool. 'Tis none of your business," the man snarled but the doubt in his eyes belied him.

"Yah!" The young man with the bloody dagger said and stepped forward. "We found him first! Dem jewels be ours!"

The corner of Taeyong's lips lifted cynically. "Really now, you should all find a decent way of living instead of preying on innocents. Better leave before you all get hurt."

The bandits laughed and the man with the sword who looked to be their leader, as Taeyong surmised, walked over and stood before him.

"So you think you can beat the five of us alone, do you," the leader spat and circled Taeyong once, regarding him from head to foot. "You're a scrawny little thing and I can easily skewer you with my sword, but you're brave. You can't defeat us even with all those weapons on you with your tiny body."

"We can kill you and take those from you," said the eldest bandit with a sneer.

"Yah! It's all for show! We'll take 'em!"

"My patience is wearing thin. Leave the gentleman alone, so my companion and I can have warm Baijiu at the tavern."

The leader looked past Taeyong and appeared to have just noticed Yukhei looking bored sitting on Xuxi while holding the reins of the two horses. "Two of you then. Five against two is still not in your favor."

"He needn't fight. Only I."

"That's his way of saying he'll pulverize all of you," Yukhei stated as a matter-of-fact. "You shall all be on the ground in one minute. Perhaps even less."

"He speaks the truth," Taeyong said, his face bland and expressionless.

The leader smirked. "I'll cut your heart out right now you arrogant prick."

Taeyong let out a sigh as if in utter boredom and it infuriated the man. With a howl the bandit leader lifted his sword above his head to cut down Taeyong. But before the bandit could realize what was happening, Taeyong dodged a little to the left then grabbed the man's wrist as he swung the sword downward. Taeyong twisted the wrist outward with a snap, dislocating it effortlessly and the leader screamed in pain as he dropped the sword. The leader tried to hit Taeyong on the face with his left fist but again Taeyong evaded it and caught the man's pinky finger and bent it to an odd angle. The man fell to the ground as he held his injured hands close to his chest while wailing in pain. The rest of the men gaped at their companion, horrified but enraged.

The youngest bandit cried out in outrage and ran toward Taeyong till he was close enough to slash at his face with the dagger, but Taeyong leapt to whirl in the air and before landing with both feet on the ground he extended his leg and kicked the boy's upper torso. The young bandit flew backwards and fell beside his leader, dazed with the wind knocked out of him and fainted.

Altogether, the three other bandits ran towards him with snarls and screeches, weapons at the ready. Taeyong hit the first one to approach him with his folded elbow under the jaw, with such might it knocked him out and thus crumpled on the ground. The second one Taeyong kicked with his heel high up in the chest near the esophagus and the bandit choked on his own breath, falling to his knees gasping for air. The third and eldest bandit charged with a lunge and Taeyong sidestepped so that the elder bandit missed him. Taeyong hit him at the back of the neck with his forearm and rendered him unconscious, then he too fell limply.

Taeyong looked up to see the nobleman rooted on the spot, unable to move, with a wide-eyed stare at him. He looked shaken but unharmed. "Are you alright...ah...Sir?"

The young man blinked and nodded. "I... I'm fine. Thank you for saving my life. I am... in your debt Master...?"

"I believe you can ride back to your abode safely now. I don't think there are other bandits in the area. They are territorial. And these don't appear to have horses so they can't chase you back," Taeyong stated in an authoritative manner and avoided divulging his identity. "Can you manage to ride back alone, Sir?"

"I... yes, I suppose so. But I..."

"Then I bid you a good day." Taeyong bowed and turned to rejoin his now impatient retainer.

Yukhei dropped Midnight's reins as Taeyong approached them. Then Taeyong sensed the sudden movement from behind and could hear the swishing sound as if an arm was raised. His quick reflex set in and Taeyong knew the intention was to kill or maim, even before he heard the cry from the young noble. "Watch out!"

Taeyong reached down and unsheathed the long dagger on his right hip. Just before the tip of the eldest bandit's dagger could pierce his nape, Taeyong, without even turning around to face him, held the dagger's grip in his right hand and his left hand on it's pommel, plunged the dagger behind him right into the side of the eldest bandit's torso. Taeyong knew he missed vital organs but the man was in danger of death if left unattended. He could hear the loud gasp of the nobleman as he pulled out the dagger before the man fell on the grass, clutching at his guts.

Taeyong loomed over the fallen man and began wiping his blade on the bandit's filthy shirt. "Next time, make sure you kill first before you get killed."

The weathered older man could only sputter and groan in pain, both his hands atop the wound which started to bleed.

When Taeyong was satisfied he didn't miss one spot of blood on blade, he turned to the nobleman who's mouth was hanging open. "Once again, I bid you good day Sir."

Taeyong strode over to his horse who stood by patiently waiting for him and nickered when he patted it's neck. He put his foot on the stirrup and heaved himself up and onto the saddle. While gathering the reins, Taeyong spared the nobleman, still unmoving and agape, a slight nod before he nudged Midnight to a trot.

"Two Royal Guards are headed towards that copse. Could be patrols," Yukhei voiced out his observation as the horses began to gallop toward the road leading to Chazhu. "They must have seen the commotion."

"I know."

"Did you really need to stab that man? You could have easily dodged," asked Yukhei with curiosity.

"Those bandits killed two guards, a dockman's wife and son who are both castle retainers, and stole a wagonload of supplies headed for Chazhu Castle the day before."

"What? How did you..."

"I overheard the dockmen whispering about it."

"But how did you know it's..."

"I saw their sketches held up by one of the soldiers."

"When? Where?"

"And that, Yukhei, is why you're still an apprentice," Taeyong remarked before nudging Midnight to a hard gallop, kicking up dirt.

Yukhei rolled his eyes at Taeyong and sniffed, following suit as he whispered, "pompous ass."

***

Prince Sicheng stared after the man clad in black ride away toward the city. What an obnoxious man, he thought. He wanted to offer some sort of reward but the mysterious man did not even give him an opportunity to make proper introductions. Looking down at the carnage of injured bandits at his feet, the Prince shuddered. Perhaps it was best that he did not know the man. He was a ruthless fighter who had no qualms on inflicting pain to his attackers. Obnoxious and ruthless. And deadly. Yet, Prince Sicheng still found him riveting and intriguing. His curiosity was tweaked. He wished he had even a slight idea of who he was but then again, to what point? The Prince shook his head as if waking from a dream.

"Your Highness! Prince Sicheng!"

"Are you alright, Your Highness?"

Liang and Yiwu got off their horses and were falling over themselves inquiring if the Prince was hurt but at the same time inspecting the fallen bandits.

"Take care of these men. They are prisoners but make sure they are seen to by the healer. Bandits who tried to rob me. I suspect they are..." Prince Sicheng trailed off his from instructing the wardens when Yiwu exclaimed excitedly.

"Your Highness! These are the men who killed two guards and the kitchen maid and her son! I recognize their faces from the sketches."

"My God, you're right!" Liang said.

The wardens bared their swords, ready to defend in case the bandits decide to take up another fight. "But who were those men Your Highness? I saw one of them fight from afar. Skillfully if I may say so."

"Indeed," agreed Yiwu. "His fighting technique is the same as that of the northern realms."

The Prince showed disinterest as he climbed up to Wind's saddle. He suddenly felt very tired. "I shall return to the Castle and have some reinforcements sent your way."

"But Your Highness, you'll be alone going back," protested Liang. "I will accompany you."

"No need, I'll be safe," said the Prince and led the horse toward the castle, ignoring his men's protests.

For the rest of the day, instead of worrying about his upcoming marriage Prince Sicheng fought with the vision of the mysterious man clad in black that kept haunting him.

***

Taeyong sat at a table by the wall sipping Baijiu in a tiny warmed cup and savoring the sweetness of it in his mouth. The dining hall was bursting at the seams. It was the largest tavern in the center of the city and Taeyong let his eyes roam to note that most of it's patrons looked to be regulars and locals of Chazhu who were either dining or enjoying drinks while listening to the flute and lute musicians. However, a third of the customers looked like soldiers and warriors trying to appear like the common peasant. It was the way they held themselves and the intermittent act of touching their hips betrayed them, as though they felt uncomfortable without a sword strapped on them. This made Taeyong mildly suspicious.

Yukhei and himself were looking for a quiet inn but after searching almost half the city they were all full. Possibly because of the upcoming announcement of the royal wedding and people wanted to take advantage of it to earn some coin. But then, these men were no traders. Something that bothered Taeyong.

Taeyong let out a deep breath and leaned back on his chair staring at nothing in particular. He had no idea why he was sent as the envoy. Or rather he did but rebelled against it, denying it was more of his fault. He was in an awkward position and he was uncomfortable. He should be used to it, he thought.

Taeyong didn't have a pampered life. He always had a fascination with swords and blades, and when he was a young boy he found himself picking up a practice sword and parried with the soldiers at Haedodi, the fort where he had frequented when he was a child. His father noted this.

Taeyong was then sent to train in Valdavan when he was barely ten because his father wanted him to become a strong warrior. Despite his mother's protests, Taeyong's father told him he already learned all the techniques Haedodi's greatest warriors could share so he sent Taeyong north to learn Valdavan martial arts, which he had perfected.

When he grew to be a young man, against his father's wishes he would fight alongside Valdavan warriors in skirmishes and assaults to hone his abilities. Through the years Taeyong had become one of the most skilled warriors in Haedodi and Valdavan. There he had learned to fight with his body, that it didn't matter if you were extremely muscular or just lithe. It was knowing which part of the body to strike hard enough to debilitate the opponent. He mastered such way of fighting, and he had become even more deadly. He could kill four or five men with just one stroke of his blades or snap his opponent's bones to injure or even kill. However, it was not the Generals nor Master Swordsmen that took greatest interest in Taeyong. It was the dark and very handsome Prince of Valdavan, Lumar Zantha.

When Taeyong turned eighteen, Prince Lumar, twelve years his senior, had invited him to the Valdavan Palace and held a banquet in his honor. He gave Taeyong two short swords from the Master Blacksmith of Tsuyoi, supposedly similar to those used by the elite Senshi warriors of their realm. The wakizashis were forged from the highest quality of folded carbon steel. The blades gleamed with an almost bluish grey hue with those perfect wave lines above the keen edges. The sheathes were lacquered wood with gold filigree and inlayed with small rubies. When Taeyong tried them, it had felt perfectly balanced and weighed just right for wielding two of them. He was touched that such generous gifts were bestowed on him.

Later on, the Prince had become Taeyong's mentor, taught him more about tactics and the art of war. They had become close friends and were often seen together, parrying or riding through the countryside. The Prince doted on him, giving him two more sets of custom made tantos of different lengths from the same blacksmith who forged Taeyong's wakizashis.

Taeyong admired Prince Lumar for his intelligence and wit. Prince Lumar, although the third Prince, was influential and very powerful. Taeyong looked up to him and idolized him as he would an older brother. But then something happened and it all changed.

They were our riding thru Valdavan's lush forests when it rained heavily in torrents and they had to take refuge on an outcrop under the shade of a large tree. Taeyong had spread out a thick blanket for the Prince to sit on and the latter pulled him to sit down with him. All of a sudden the Prince pushed him back, pinned Taeyong underneath him and kissed him fully on the mouth. Caught off guard, Taeyong lay motionless as he felt the Prince's aggressive kisses and could do nothing but feel. Being an innocent, something in Taeyong had been awoken. He yielded to the Prince's kisses and was lost under his touch. After the downpour they returned to the palace and the Prince took Taeyong to his bedchamber where he taught and showed Taeyong what carnal pleasure was. From then on they became lovers.

For over three years, Taeyong had become a slave to the Prince's sexual desires. They made love everywhere in the palace and almost at every opportunity especially during long winter nights. Taeyong found happiness in the company of the Prince. He had fallen desperately in love. He revealed his feelings to the Prince and the latter said he felt the same. Taeyong then had hopes of staying with the Prince for a lifetime.

Until one day, Taeyong went to the stables to see to his horse. What he saw tore his heart out. The Prince was half-naked and straddled on a young boy who was thrusting into him, while another stable boy's shaft was in the Prince's mouth who sucked on it greedily. Both were barely eighteen years of age. Taeyong recalled running to the woods and hiding for over a day, crying till his tears dried out. The Prince searched for him and took him back to the palace. He told Taeyong it was just lust, nothing like what they had. It took some time but because Taeyong loved him so much, he forgave the Prince and continued with their relationship. Several months after that, Taeyong went to visit the Prince in his chambers. What he saw broke him. The teenage Earl of Luderon was lying on the bed while the Prince was between his legs, sucking on the latter's cock. Taeyong stormed out of the chambers, ignoring the Prince's calls.

Taeyong knew he had been fooled. He felt betrayed and used. He finally went back to his homeland where he stayed for almost two years now. A few months later, Taeyong heard he married the Earl. It took a long time for him to recover, but Taeyong became a different man. Cold and unfeeling yet broken on the inside. None of them knew what happened. Except Yukhei.

Looking back, Taeyong understood that the Prince merely seduced him, wanted him for his innocence and his youthfulness. From then on, he swore to never fall in love again. Love was for fools and the weak.

His reverie was interrupted by Yukhei's return from scouting. "My Lo—Master, the docks and inns are flooded with soldiers dressed as commoners. They could likely be there to protect the Crown Princess who had just arrived at the castle, but I can't be sure. By tomorrow afternoon, the Princess will be presented to the Court. However, something is off. There were about half a dozen wagons that were let thru the castle gates. According to the guards, they are retainers and soldiers from Tsuyoi. But judging by the number of ships from there..."

Taeyong squinted at Yukhei making the latter falter. "I know."

"You... suspect something as well?"

"Let's hope not." Taeyong sighed and stood from the table. He had kept Yukhei by his side because he was the only one who had put up with his black moods for many years while training in Valdavan and after the fact. Not because he was the best of scouts, although he was quick in reflex and was good with the longsword, but because he saw Yukhei as a friend.

"We should retire for the night. It's past midnight and we may have a long day tomorrow,” Taeyong said with a deep sense of forboding.

 

The Chazhu Castle was as enormous as it looked, though not nearly as huge as Haedodi Fortress. The main hall where the King received his court and officials was long and wide, and could have fit in three small houses. At the very end, the plush King's throne was on top of an elevated rugged platform and to it's left was the Queens. Taeyong found it simple in polished blackwood with carvings of the Royal Crest which was a crowned lion standing on it's hind legs, holding a scepter in one paw and a sickle on the other and deep red velvet. Not at all grandiose, with the exception of it's intricate carving. It said a lot for such a rich monarchy. Two more plush high-backed wing chairs were at the foot of the steps leading to the platform, likely where the betrothed were to sit, Taeyong thought.

Pillars lined the sides of the hall to support the heavy stone ceiling where over a dozen chandeliers hung, all lit up with hundreds of thick candles. To the right, two huge doors opened to the dining hall with a very long center table which could sit about twenty people abreast. It appeared to be groaning from the weight, laden with a vast variety of food and drink. Other smaller tables dotted the hall to accommodate other guests. At one side, musicians were playing softly in the background. There was a festive and affable atmosphere, and the Gentlemen and Ladies of the Court in their finery and gowns were all laughing and talking excitedly while holding crystal goblets filled with various wines and drinks. King Wei Yong and the Crown Prince Quiang mingled graciously the guests. The liveried servants milled about carrying silver trays also laden with pastries and pick-me-ups and made sure the goblets were never empty. It was a sight to behold.

Taeyong however looked bored, leaning on the whitewashed stone wall behind one of the pillars watching everyone with his dark brooding gaze. A small wooden box nestled snugly under his arm. He looked ominous in his black attire, with the long black velvet coat, snug around the waist and reached his thighs. He had to remove his swords. The palace guards respectfully requested he should not bring in his weapons, at the very least his wakizashis. Taeyong unstrapped all his blades except the ones inside his boots. Yukhei had to wait outside at the outer hall with all of Taeyong's weapons, a scowl on his face.

The servants hovered around Taeyong with reserve, likely afraid of him, as they offered him refreshments which he politely refused. They arrived at the castle before mid-afternoon, waiting for the ceremony to commence. Taeyong had been standing and waiting for an hour. No Prince and Princess yet.

Finally, when Taeyong was about to give up and tell Yukhei to pretend to be the Royal Envoy so he could go back to the tavern, the betrothed were announced by the court herald.

Taeyong turned his head to look at the entrance to the left by the platforms where the thrones were situated. Somehow he was not surprised to see the young Prince was the 'nobleman' he rescued in the woods. He watched the Prince with some interest, noting how he looked dignified yet graceful beside the Crown Princess as they walked side by side with the latter's hand lightly nestled on the Prince's upheld forearm. He wore a burgundy velvet coat over the black silk shirt, tucked in snugly fit trousers of the same material. His shiny black leather boots were up to his calves.

The King then went up the platform and made his short speech of announcing the betrothed and their upcoming wedding, and then sat on the throne. Thereafter, the Prince and Crown Princess settled themselves on the winged chairs as well. The Crown Prince Quiang sat to the King’s right. The presentation of tributes began with the herald announcing each guest handing their 'gifts' to the retainer after showing it off to the betrothed.

Taeyong studied the Prince who just stared straight ahead. He did not seem happy about everything, unlike the Crown Princess who was foolishly grinning from ear to ear, glancing at the Prince every so often. The Prince merely stared straight ahead, face chiseled in stone, only nodding his head in acknowledgement to guests. Taeyong could guess why.

"His Majesty King Hyojin of Kaelaran's Royal Envoy, Master Lee Taeyong," boomed the herald in monotone.

Taeyong strode over to the front and knelt on bended knee before the Prince and Crown Princess, his goal to be as quick as possible in order to get away from all this frivolous ceremony. He avoided looking at the Prince but as to why, he couldn't fathom. Perhaps he didn't want to feel awkward.

"Your Royal Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, I present to you His Majesty King Hyojin's present, honed and crafted by our finest weapons master. His Majesty wishes you all the best," Taeyong said formally. He opened the blue lacquered box to reveal two five-inch daggers. The hilts and sheaths were of lapis lazuli with gold filigree and each pommel inlayed with large blue sapphires. The Crown Princess gasped as she gaped at Taeyong, but not because of the tribute. The King and the Prince looked curiously at the Crown Princess and then at Taeyong. His eyes widened in recognition. Taeyong's heart sank as he suddenly recalled a very minute detail that he had overlooked . Yet at that moment he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He knew then something was terribly wrong.

"Lee Taeyong? Lo—... Mar—" The rest of her words were lost as she drew in her dying breath when the dagger which flew through the air pierced the Crown Princess's heart.

The aftermath was pure chaos.


	4. Blood and Mayehm

 

 

 

 

Yukhei grumbled as his tall and muscular form wrestled with the sheathed weapons of his master in his arms while pacing to and fro just outside of the main hall's entrance, annoyed and distraught. There was something he couldn't put his finger on. He could almost grasp it but it kept escaping him. Yukhei knew it was something that might embarrass his master and put him in an awkward position. But what was it?

It was then that it dawned on him and Yukhei paused to gasped, "the Crown Princess knows him!"

"M'Lord, the ceremony has already begun. I may still have your presence announced if you would kindly provide your name and title," the Herald at the entrance said respectfully.

"I... am the Marquess of Sarang from Kaelaran," the tall man declared.

Yukhei knotted his brows together and whipped his head up to glance at the man calling himself the Marquess. He and his five retainers wore full length cloaks that they obviously hoped to disguise the armories strapped to their backs, swords and shields heavily outlined underneath said cloaks. If his presumption was correct, they looked more like soldiers, not retainers.

"Very good, Your Lordship. If you would please leave your weapons with your retainers," the second Herald said.

"Why must I?"

"My Lord Marquess, my apologies, but the weapons might make the other guests... uncomfortable."

"Let me in!" said the man, obviously irritated and tried to push his way passed the sentries.

"My Lord!" cried the Herald while gaping at the six men who began wrestling with the two sentries. Alerted, more guards rushed over to assist.The cloaked men were strong and the man calling himself the Marquess broke free and hurried toward the center of the hall.

Yukhei gaped at the sudden commotion and realized something of import. "Stupid! Idiot! Dumb, stupid Yukhei! There is no way on earth that man is the Marquess!" Yukhei mumbled as he dropped down on all fours, or at least all threes with one arm still hugging the swords and daggers. He must follow that impostor. He crawled towards the main hall, weaving through the shuffling feet to get past the wall of men pushing at each other, at the brink of pulling out their weapons.

Yukhei slipped through but was on the verge of panic, his large round eyes getting even larger. He tried to look for the impostor but he dissolved into the crowd. Yukhei knew something terrible was about to happen as he scanned the hall weaving through the throng of nobles and servants, looking for the man. He must warn his master. _Where did the impostor go?_

Yukhei found his master before the Prince and Crown Princess, praying she will not recognize him. Panning his view throughout the hall he found the man several feet away from him. Yukhei started for the man but then he gasped as he saw the dagger fly across the room thrown by a _servant_ , and knew it was too late.

"Oh God." Yukhei saw the Crown Princess slump and fall over by the Prince's feet.

The screams and horrified shrieks erupted simultaneously with people fleeing and the Royal Guards rushing to defend the King. It was utter mayhem.

Yukhei was shaken at what he had just witnessed but still pushed forward, colliding with people who were running trying to escape. His master needs his weapons. Yukhei was caught in the commotion, unable to advance forward as quickly as he wanted. He saw his master engage several attackers with the short daggers and he grew more worried. Determined, he focused only on reaching his master and he forced himself through the battle ground, mindless of the weapons slashing and jabbing as he went by. Yukhei was finally able to break through the throng, thankfully unscathed.

"M-master.... Master!" Yukhei's voice was drowned by the frightened screams and soldiers fighting. "MY LORD! TAEYONG!"

***

Everything happened so fast. Taeyong had no time to react to the Crown Princess's death, but instead took the daggers from the box which he discarded on the floor whilst trying to discern who the assassin was. He unsheathed them and tucked the sheathes in his belt to secure those, then held a dagger in each hand. He had wished they were longer but thought it will have to do when he noticed the sentries and guards lying on the floor by the entrance. Men wearing white bands on their heads with a blue streak, soldiers of Chāzi, flooded into the main hall trying to cut through the castle guards to get to the King and Princes. Two of them got through and Taeyong immediately faced them in a challenging stance. One of them swung a longsword at Taeyong who dodged and tumbled forward to situate himself just in front of his attacker on bended knee. With great speed and agility, he flung his arms out to simultaneously cut the man's sword arm with one dagger and the femoral artery in the right thigh with the other. The man dropped his weapon and screamed as he fell to his knees, bleeding.

"You puny rat," taunted the other attacker and tried to bash Taeyong with his shield as he was still on one knee. But Taeyong quickly dodged and nimbly got on his feet, then twirled the daggers in his hands with a sarcastic grin on his face. It infuriated his opponent. The man started jabbing at Taeyong but finding the opening he was waiting for, he applied a high kick, extending his right leg and swung it to hit the man's arm who consequently dropped the sword in surprise. Taeyong then spun to shift and use his other leg to kick the soldier on the jaw and he fell backwards. Taeyong knelt by the dazed soldier and finished him off with a quick but fatal cut.

"Yukhei, where are you," Taeyong whispered as he stood and looked behind him to see the King and Crown Prince finally being hustled away from the platform to the doorway leading to the chambers by the Royal Guards. He frowned as he noted they did not gather Prince Sicheng with them.

The thought fled from Taeyong as another attacker sprang in front of him and had to block several attacks with his daggers as his opponent slashed at him downward. When Taeyong saw an opening he spun to his opponent's side and jabbed at his attacker's neck who then gargled struggling for breath as he fell on the floor.

"Sicheng! We must go," the King called out as he was being dragged away by the guards. "SON!"

The King's voice alerted Taeyong and turned to find the Crown Prince ran over to reach for his brother who now stood, looking dazed. From the corner of his eye, Taeyong saw a servant, obviously an assassin in disguise, throw a dagger at Prince Sicheng. "Your Highness! No!" Taeyong tried to warn him but was too late. The Crown Prince also saw the assassin so he shoved Prince Sicheng aside to protect him and took the dagger in his chest instead.

"NOOOO!" The King wailed trying to break free from the Royal Guards but they prevented him from doing so and led him to safety, disappearing through the exit out to the Royal Chambers.

Taeyong's gaze then settled on the Prince, expecting him to respond to his father at the very least. However, the Prince who had fallen on the floor moved towards his brother and cradled the Crown Prince's now limp body on his lap. He looked up in confusion and settled his gaze on Taeyong with a lost expression on his face.

"Your Highness, you must escape!" Taeyong directed at the Prince who now had tears streaming down his face, crying for his brother who saved his life. For a split second, Taeyong wanted to go to him and offer some comfort but was brought back to reality when a grisly warrior began to approach the Prince with murder in his eyes. Instinctively, Taeyong threw his dagger at him to stall him and it penetrated the man's thigh before the he could swing the great-axe. He was aiming at Prince Sicheng who still held his brother in his arms, unaware of the danger.

The grisly soldier paused to looked down at the dagger, wavering for a moment from the pain, but set his eyes on Taeyong with a look of vengeance. The man sauntered towards Taeyong instead and with all might, swung his axe to aim it at his head. Taeyong bent his body backwards and stepped to the right. The man was quick to follow and swung his weapon low from left to right, aiming for Taeyong's stomach but the latter evaded once more then rolled over towards the man's right thigh. Taeyong pulled out the dagger he threw earlier and quick as lightning, Taeyong shifted behind the man and plunged his daggers upward under underneath the man's studded leather armor, to pierce both lungs. The man gasped for breath and crumpled in a heap.

While Taeyong was engaged with the grisly man, one of the Royal Guards came back to take the Prince to safety. But then a tall 'nobleman' armed with a bastard sword suddenly attacked the guard and they fought viciously, with the Royal Guard fighting defensively. The man found an opening and swung his sword upward and cut down the guard who fell severely wounded.

Meanwhile, after Taeyong had killed another opponent, he scanned the hall that had turned into a battle arena, searching for any sign of Yukhei. "YUKHEI!"

As if on cue, Yukhei broke through the the clashing of guards and Chazhu soldiers, screaming his _name_. Taeyong raised an eyebrow and under normal circumstances he would have thumped his servant's head with the blade's hilt. But not today, as Yukhei slid his wakizashis on the floor toward him while the latter sheathed the small daggers at his waist. With his hands free,Taeyong caught the two swords just in time to stop the man with the bastard sword who was about to swing his weapon at the Prince. Taeyong quickly sprinted across the room to stand behind the man. And before he was even aware of it, Taeyong stretched his arms out with his wrists one over the other so his arms and blades formed a cross, and slashed the swords simultaneously in the opposite directions across the man's neck, cutting deep enough to sever his spinal cord. The man died almost instantly.

"M-master!" Yukhei ran towards Taeyong, huffing and panting. "You're safe."

"So are you. But not for long. There are too many."

Taeyong regarded the main entrance which was now blocked by the larger pile of fallen sentries and guards while those still able to fight held the line. But the Chāzi soldiers were greater in number and still pushing through, vainly kept back by castle guards and Richū soldiers. He turned to glance at the Prince who seemed about to faint. Taeyong took note of the entrance to the chambers where the King had disappeared.

"We must bring the Prince to his father," Taeyong directed at Yukhei who looked at the Prince with pity in his eyes.

"I agree, Master," Yukhei said, shuffling the straps and daggers in his arms.

Taeyong knew it was more important to bring the Prince to safety rather than to engage in a losing battle. "This fight is lost. They have taken the castle. We must escape and find the King."

Yukhei nodded and watched as Taeyong approached the Prince.

"Your Highness, we must hasten. I will take you to your father," Taeyong said firmly and yet put a hand on his shoulder ever so lightly.

The Prince looked up at Taeyong who towered over him from where he sat, eyes brimming with tears. "But my brother..."

"I'm truly sorry for your loss, Your Highness. But it is more important to keep you alive. You can mourn for your brother when you're safe with your father, His Majesty." To Taeyong's surprise, the Prince hugged his brother tightly and kissed his head before setting him down on the floor gently. He stood up, or tried to, wobbling and unsteady on his feet. Taeyong noticed Yukhei fighting back tears that threatened to fall. Now was not the time to be soft, he thought.

That moment, another attacker strode over, aiming to strike at the Prince. Taeyong then barked, "Yukhei, lead the prince to the chambers. I'll take care of this."

"Your Highness," Yukhei said with urgency. The Prince swayed as if wanting to faint so Yukhei took the weakened Prince's arm to support him and lead him out to the exit.

Taeyong faced his opponent who charged with his longsword striking downward. Taeyong used his own sword to disarm him, and failed. Taeyong noted his opponent as highly skilled so he locked his opponent's sword as it was slashing downward by crossing his own wakizashis over it and underneath it then flicking his wrists forcefully downward, he was able to disarm the man. He quickly slashed at his opponent with a fatal wound.

Afterwards, without looking back, Taeyong ran towards the exit to follow the Prince and Yukhei. He saw them turn right at the end of the hall and sprinted to catch up with them. What met them up ahead were several dead Royal Guards lying on the floor along with Chāzi soldiers. Taeyong was then filled with dread. "These were the soldiers who led His Majesty."

The King however was not among them, but his blood stained cape lay discarded on the floor. Taeyong and Yukhei shared worried glances.

"Father..." The Prince's knees buckled and Yukhei held him up for support.

"We'll get you out of here, Your Highness," Yukhei said softly.

"Your Highness, is there a way out of the castle undetected?" Taeyong asked promptly. At that point the only thing on his mind was escape.

The Prince looked up at Taeyong, a blank expression on his face but his eyes was evidently filled with anguish. "I... there is a stairwell at the end of this hall leading to the kitchens. I believe that was where Father is... was... they were headed."

"Then perhaps that's where we should go. We can find your...." Taeyong's speech was cut off by a sharp command: "Find the Prince! Search every room!" which could be heard over the thundering of what seemed like several dozen of footsteps coming from where they were headed. "Hurry! King Cuànwèi said to bring him their heads! Pity we have to trek all the way to Valdavan for the rest of the Royal Family."

"Too late. I can fend them off while you take His Highness to safety," Taeyong ordered briskly. He turned to face the would be opponents while subconsciously twirling both blades in his hands.

"No Master, please! They are too many, you might get hurt. Let us just leave," Yukhei appealed to his Master.

"I can take them on. Lead His Highness to safety," Taeyong said confidently as he started for the direction from whence the sounds emanated.

"P-please don't le-leave..." Prince Sicheng whispered softly, his voice hoarse. "I... I'm s-scared."

Taeyong froze on his tracks and could never understand why his heart skipped a beat. He turned to see Prince Sicheng's pale tear-stricken face with a mixture of fear and grief in his eyes. And there it was once more, the vulnerability that emanated from him that Taeyong had sensed before. Taeyong blinked, astonished at himself. It had been a while since he was affected by a mere gaze. _I'm just exhausted, that's all. Yes, that would be it._

Taeyong could feel Yukhei's eyes on him.

"Pl-please..." Prince Sicheng continued to plead, eyes searching Taeyong's face. Taeyong sighed in resignation.

"Your Highness, nearest room with a balcony or huge window," Taeyong said with urgency, his dark eyes guarded.

The Prince nodded gratefully and pointed at the door near them. "M-my bed chambers."

Yukhei's eyes became larger as he said, "Master, you're not seriously thinking what I'm thinking."

Taeyong ignored his servant as he strode over to the thick double doors and quickly hustled the two inside before the footsteps became even louder. Taeyong barred the doors shut behind them and pushed the bureau drawer against it while he barked at Yukhei. "Tear up the bed sheets into wide strips and tie them together. Make two ropes. Quickly!"

Yukhei shook his head as if in disbelief while he led the Prince to sit on the stool at the foot of the canopied bed. He settled the daggers and sheath straps on the desk then yanked the sheets from the enormous four-poster bed and began fashioning those into a long rope. "I can't believe this. I don't know if it will be long enough or even strong enough. Really Master, I think I'll have a heart attack, if we don't plunge to our deaths first. This is insane. You know I'm afraid of..."

"Yukhei, shut your mouth," Taeyong said, walking over to his weapons. "Three sheets should be enough."

"Yes to both, Master," Yukhei said grudgingly.

Taeyong took the long daggers and sheathed those on either side of his thighs. Next he replaced the wakizashis into it's scabbards then strapped them snugly onto his back over his buttoned up long coat. Just then, he felt the Prince watching him quietly.

"You are good with your body... and your blades," the Prince uttered softly. "Your fighting is breathtaking. Like a dance."

Taeyong stiffened as he heard Yukhei snigger.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Taeyong replied curtly and cleared his throat, avoiding the Prince's gaze. He walked stiffly over to the balcony and looked down below, thanking the gods that it led down to the back of the castle and there seemed to be no soldiers about, yet.

"Your Highness, do you have a change of clothes here? Something... less conspicuous," Taeyong said as he went back into the room, noting the bloodied fabric.

Prince Sicheng looked down and as if noticing it for the first time, sobbed with his head down, buried in his hands.

"S-sorry," the Prince murmured when he recollected himself. "Yes, in there."

Taeyong pursed his lips together and looked to find a huge wardrobe and walked towards it. He opened it and rummaged through the clothes, trying to find specifically what he was looking for. Luckily he found grey woolen trousers, a matching coat and a plain white cotton shirt.

"Here, Your Highness," Taeyong said softly as he handed those to the Prince. The Prince seemed to have been able to control his emotions then, wiping off his tears with the heels of his hands. He lifted his head up to gaze at Taeyong as he took the clothes and offered him a weak smile. Taeyong blinked, taken aback by the dimpled smile but recovered quickly and gave the Prince a small nod.

The Prince stood up and began disrobing in front of Taeyong. For a moment, Taeyong froze when the Prince began unbuttoning his silk shirt. He turned abruptly and went back to rummaging for more clothes the Prince might need if he were to travel. Taeyong felt foolish, chastising himself for being so awkward with the Prince. Again, he couldn't understand why. He took out a thick woolen dark brown riding cloak, two sets of coats, shirts and trousers, all of which were the simplest and in earth tones then piled them up on the bed.

"Master, please don't forget the socks and... uhm... what we wear underneath trousers," Yukhei quipped and tried his best not to snicker.

Taeyong gave his servant a dangerous and murderous look but Yukhei just bent his head down, lips quivering. Taeyong gnashed his teeth together. Someday soon, Yukhei will get his comeuppance, thought Taeyong bitterly as he went over to the bureau drawer and dug into it to find several silk loincloths and thick wool socks. He grabbed a few and added those to the pile of clothes he had dumped onto the bed. Taeyong peeled off the pillow case from one of the large down pillows and began stuffing the clothes into it, leaving out the cloak. Taeyong then yanked the thick wool blanket at the foot of the bed and placed the clothes in it's center then wrapped them all together to tie it into a bundle. He tossed it over to Yukhei. "Bring those."

Taeyong noticed a pitcher of drinking water by the nightstand. He poured some water into the glass and handed it to the Prince. He had no idea why he did it and felt Yukhei silently watching him. By that time, the Prince had changed into his more ordinary clothes and sat quietly back on the stool. He looked mildly surprised, but the Prince took the glass gratefully from Taeyong with a 'thank you' and downed the water. The Prince set the glass down on the floor by his feet.

Taeyong paced to and fro, thinking of how to help the Prince escape, now that the King is nowhere to be found. Where should he bring the Prince for his safety and how should they travel without bringing attention to him? Then a thought struck Taeyong. "Ah... Your Highness, where are the rest of your family members? I have not seen..."

"S-spring Banquet," Prince Sicheng whispered almost inaudibly. "M-my Mother... how w-will I tell her..."

"Then I will take you to them," Taeyong said decidedly. Taeyong sat beside the Prince and added, "Your Highness, I know this is a difficult time for you. But you must be strong and endure. It may be harder still in the following days or perhaps weeks if you are to travel to your family. And I suspect they will find out soon enough since I know for sure your people have already sent a messenger to wherever they are staying as we speak. Do not worry."

The Prince took in a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you. Will... will you take me to them?"

Prince Sicheng looked up at Taeyong, again with those helpless eyes. "You will really h-help me, Master Taeyong?"

Taeyong gulped at the sound of his name uttered by the Prince. Again, he did not know why, but the way the Prince said his name... _I'm exhausted is why. I’m being silly._

"Yes. _We_ will, Your Highness."

Yukhei groaned and mumbled something incoherent. He earned a sharp look from Taeyong but Yukhei merely shrugged.

"Where is the Spring Banquet being held?" Taeyong knew they would still be able to reach there in time to bring the Prince to wherever it was being held, since the banquet was a month-long occasion.

"Valdavan Palace."

Taeyong and Yukhei both stiffened and shared meaningful looks but with varying sentiments. Yukhei with worry and Taeyong with that of aversion. Suddenly there was a trace of distaste in his expression, while Yukhei bent his head down and continued with his ministrations. Taeyong pressed his lips together when he noticed the Prince looking at him expectantly. _Valdavan? No. No, I can never go back there._

Before they could react any further, the three of them heard the sound of the door being rattled and thereafter a loud banging from the outside.

"Captain Xian, this door is barred from the inside," a muffled voice said excitedly.

"Force it open! Men! Use that battering ram!"

"We are fucked," were the only words Yukhei could utter before the deafening sound of the battering ram pounding on the door began.

 


	5. Eluding the Tides of Turmoil

 

 

 

The heavy doors shuddered behind the bureau drawer pushed up against it with each loud pounding. Prince Sicheng thought that every impact of the battering ram meant his life was certainly coming to an end. Each sliver of hope to escape stretched tautly within him were snapping one by one until everything would be replaced with fear and consequently death. It was a losing battle, Master Taeyong had said, and Prince Sicheng couldn't have agreed more.

_Yes, losing_. He was losing almost everything he had ever known, a brother he loved, the land he so cherished, its people he adored and his only home. Even his father was gone, most likely dead. It made the Prince realize how he had taken it all for granted and more importantly how meaningless his short life had been. If he truly died that very moment the only thought on his mind would be his regrets. Maybe it was pointless to fight the rushing tide. Perhaps he should just accept and cede everything to fate. The only good thing was that the rest of his family were safe away from this chaos, for now. He felt stinging in his eyes once more and tears began welling in his eyelids.

"Your Highness," the soft and almost husky voice pierced through his reverie and the Prince blinked at the vision before him, as though it was the first time he realized he was not alone.

"Your Highness we must go now," Taeyong said with urgency as he went down on bended knee before Prince Sicheng. "I understand you're... vulnerable at this moment but you must be strong. I need you focused if we're to escape. We must descend from the balcony using the sheets. Do you think you can manage it, Your Highness?"

"D-descend? I have... never done such thing before let alone... know how to do it."

Prince Sicheng watched the beautiful grey haired man regard him, as though the dark eyes could see through his thoughts. Then Taeyong nodded and stood up before he said, "then I will help you. We will go down together and we'll save time by doing so. Yukhei!"

"Yes Master, it is ready," Yukhei said as he went out to the balustrade then slung one end of the makeshift rope, which was knotted at equal intervals to connect the sheets together, over then under around the granite slab railing, then tied the loose end around his body. The other much shorter rope, he fastened to the balustrade pillar securely by tying it twice.

Prince Sicheng suddenly felt his heart jump to his throat when Taeyong held his elbow to pull him up from the stool and guided him to the balcony. The drop from his room was over fifty feet high to a stone-cobbled pavement leading to the stables. The Prince could feel his knees wobble. If he didn't break his neck first he might have several bones crushed in the fall. He thought he had preferred dying but now he realized he wasn't ready, at least not yet.

Taeyong took the other end of the makeshift rope from Yukhei which was already tied around his body. The Prince watched silently as Taeyong wound it around his upper torso then froze. Taeyong then stood extremely close behind him and bound them together so that almost the whole length of their bodies were touching. Prince Sicheng gulped nervously, forgetting everything whirling in his mind except to feel such proximity. Taeyong's breath on his nape made him shudder. He stole a quick glance at Taeyong who looked almost indifferent, brows furrowed in concentration as he tied off the rope to secure both of them.

"Ready Your Highness?" Taeyong asked hoarsely after clearing his throat. "Let's go over the railing and you can grab onto this loose rope here." Taeyong indicated the other rope Yukhei had tied to the railing.

Prince Sicheng could feel his heart hammering against his chest as both of them threw their legs over the rail and settled their feet on the narrow ledge while holding onto the granite slab for safety. Prince Sicheng could feel himself quivering with fright.

"Don't look down, Your Highness," Yukhei said in an almost comforting tone, but he kept glancing at the door, noting that the huge nails holding the metal bar which locked the doors were now beginning to pop out of the wood with every bang. "Hurry please... I don't want to die yet. I'm too young. I need to sow _more_ oats."

Taeyong scowled but ignored his servant as he held the granite rail from behind Prince Sicheng, around his waist. The Prince could feel the man's body pressing against his back, pinning him against the balustrade. He felt more unsettled by the form melded against his body than the thought of plunging to his death. He had a hard time concentrating on not slipping from the ledge with the constant breath of Taeyong tickling his neck. _My God Sicheng, what has come over you?_

"Wait! The cloak!" Yukhei took the cloak which his master had thrown at him along with the bundle of clothes, which which he carried by slipping his arm underneath the knot and let it settle on his shoulder. Taeyong cursed.

"Just put the damn thing on."

Yukhei flung the cloak over his shoulders while he grumbled. At that point Yukhei could hear the door's hinges creaking. "Oh fuck, I'm going to die," he said, his eyes wide with fright as he fastened the cloak around his neck.

All the while, Prince Sicheng tried to calm his frayed nerves, his knuckles white against the balustrade he held onto for dear life. Every breath Taeyong took in was expelled on his neck and he was shuddering. Hopefully Taeyong mistook it for fear, thought the Prince. Indeed it could have been fear. The Prince was afraid of why he was affected so by this stranger who saved his life. Perhaps it was a sense of affinity, but what kind, he was unsure.

"Your Highness, you need to relax. I'll be here to guide you," Taeyong said softly in his ear and he shivered even more. "Now hold this tightly, and don't let go."

Taeyong held up the makeshift rope for Prince Sicheng to grab onto with one hand. Reluctantly, the Prince let go of the balustrade when Taeyong took his other hand which seemed glued on it and to clutch the rope instead. His breath hitched when Taeyong wrapped his arms around him to hold the same rope.

"Your Highness, breathe," Taeyong said coaxingly.

The Prince nodded and tried to breath, taking in ragged breaths, trying to numb himself from Taeyong's presence and focused on the loud banging on the door. It didn't help. Instead, he watched Yukhei holding the rope tied around them, to support both himself and Taeyong in the event they slipped or the rope they held onto tore up.

"Now Your Highness, ease yourself off the ledge. One foot first and then the other, slowly so you don't bang against the balustrade," Taeyong instructed. The Prince did as he was told. He shuddered as he felt himself hanging freely, making him quiver and shut his eyes. He tightened his grip on the makeshift rope.

"That's right," Taeyong said in approval. "Take a deep breath and relax."

The Prince felt it when Taeyong also got off the ledge. Now both of them were hanging by the rope. He opened his eyes to see Yukhei struggling to supporting their weight and the rope which bound them wound tight around his forearms while he held it with both hands, straining at the effort.

"Your Highness, use your hands to slide down the rope like so," Taeyong instructed and Prince Sicheng followed suit. "That's it, you're doing great."

In no time, the two of them were slowly making their way down the rope inching downward as they slid cautiously. Prince Sicheng could feel the tension around his torso as they went further down, knowing Yukhei held it tightly from the other end.

For a moment, the Prince almost forgot Taeyong's warm body practically fused to his back as they hung from the rope while being engrossed at their task. Until, Taeyong began whispering words of encouragement, making tiny jolts of electricity run up and down his spine. He would have opted Taeyong to stop murmuring breathy words into his ear, but he kept his peace and prayed for this feat to end quickly instead.

Finally, they reached the end of the rope. But their feet were nowhere near the ground. Prince Sicheng dared to take a peek and gasped. It was still over fifteen feet of clearance from the ground.

"Your highness, it appears Yukhei ahh... miscalculated the length," Taeyong said tersely. "We need to jump to the ground."

"J-jump?"

"When I say jump, let go of the rope and drop to the ground. Not to worry, Yukhei will break our fall," Taeyong said. Then he looked up at the nervous looking servant and hollered. "Yukhei the rope is too short. We're jumping down."

Yukhei nodded briskly and shouted back, "I'm still pulling your weight, Master. Just quickly please, they're breaking thru."

"Your Highness, let go of the rope... now!"

The Prince let go and they landed on the ground with a soft thud. All would have been well, except for the low grunt from Taeyong who now lay underneath the Prince.

"Oh, I'm sorry... are you alright?" Prince Sicheng asked shyly.

"It's alright. I'm... fine."

The Prince fought the urge to flail on top of Taeyong. This time was worse than before. He felt every part of Taeyong's body underneath him, including the area of the groin. The Prince tried to untie the rope while he strove to disengage himself without any success. For the life of him, he did not know why he felt his cheeks burn as they struggled to stand up and untangle themselves from one another despite still being bound together.

"Are you done canoodling? I'd like to go down now if you please!" Yukhei's voice distinctly resounded from above. The Prince avoided Taeyong's gaze but he was certain his cheeks were as red as his.

Finally, with both of them on their feet, Taeyong untied the rope around the Prince and himself then yelled at Yukhei. "Now!"

Yukhei took out a long dagger and cut the rope from which Taeyong and the Prince slid down from. Then he went over the balustrade as he sheathed the dagger before hollering, "I'm going down now!"

As he did, the door was almost broken thru and the only thing that kept it in place was the metal bar which was already bent and held only by a few remaining nails. The Prince could hear the crashing on the wooden doors and gazed up worriedly. Taeyong held onto the rope tightly as Yukhei leapt from the ledge. The Prince forgot to breathe as he watched Taeyong quickly lower down his servant and prayed the rope would be enough to let him land safely on the ground. He was astonished at how strong Taeyong was, despite his lithe body, watching the muscles on his arms outlined underneath his black coat.

The Prince was brought back to reality when a loud crash and a voice boomed from the bedchamber above. "Find the prince!"

Yukhei heard it too. He was still about twenty feet from the ground but then the Prince felt his heart stop as soldiers appeared at the balcony.

"Captain! There!" One of the soldiers pointed and then a stocky mountain of a man appeared, obviously the captain. Then he ordered, "Pull the rope up!"

The Prince gasped as the men tried to grab at the rope to lift Yukhei and whipped his head to see Taeyong squinting at his servant while he held the rope tightly.

"Yukhei!" Taeyong shouted.

Yukhei nodded and seemed to know what to do. He pulled out his dagger and cut the rope to plunge to the ground, thankfully unharmed, while Taeyong tugged at the rope until all of it's length was on the ground.

"Men! The Prince is escaping! Follow them!" The men disappeared from the balcony. But before they did, Prince Sicheng looked up and caught the man's gaze. From afar, cold animosity could be gleaned from his expression. The Prince shuddered and was somehow frozen where he stood.

"To the stables!" Taeyong yelled and noticed Prince Sicheng wasn't moving. He grabbed the Prince's wrist and dragged him away. This seemed to have jolted the Prince back to reality. The three of them sprinted for the stables.

Luck was on their side, for not one Chāzi soldier was to be found. It was likely they were all out front where the battling with the Chazhu Castle soldiers could be heard. Taeyong headed for the largest stable where he thought the Royal's horses were. All the footmen and stable-boys seemed to have disappeared, possibly fighting with the soldiers, thought the Prince.

"Your Highness, where is your horse?" Taeyong asked Prince Sicheng who then pointed at the end stall. Taeyong motioned Yukhei to saddle Wind. Yukhei took off the cloak and folded it neatly then stuffed it inside the large saddlebag after retrieving it from it's hook inside Wind's stall. The Prince looked around looking forlorn. He used to brush down Wind here almost every day. Then Taeyong asked, "is there another way out of here? One where no Chazi soldiers might have knowledge of?"

Prince Sicheng's brows furrowed in thought. He remembered his father telling him of a passage that led to a small gate a horse and it's rider could pass through. It was where the silver that was mined were brought in, to avoid prying eyes. Specifically those spies from Chazi who slip through their borders. "Yes. It is located behind the armory building and it leads out to the back of the rice mill."

"Then we go thru there to get to the city," Taeyong said. "Yukhei, you must get to the city to retrieve supplies and fetch our horses."

Yukhei grumbled. "I knew we shouldn't have walked all the way here earlier."

Taeyong ignored his servant and asked the Prince, "Your Highness, may we borrow one of the horses used by messengers or..."

Sicheng nodded and was about to point to the smaller stable outside, but a thought occurred to him. The Prince went over to the opposite stall wherein a magnificent roan stallion was fidgeting excitedly. The horse nickered as the Prince scratched it's chin. "T-take my brother's horse, Lightning. He's fast and has a high stamina. He... my brother won't be needing him... anymore."

Taeyong fell silent and surprised Prince Sicheng when he walked over beside him then felt Taeyong's hand on his shoulder to give it a light squeeze. They were both quiet for a moment, unable to find the right words. The Prince could feel the sympathy from the strange man who saved his life. He looked up at Taeyong and gave him a weak smile which the was returned with a slight nod. Yukhei entered the stall and two were unaware of his glances thrown their way while he saddled Lightning this time.

"Master Taeyong, my family's horses, what of them?" the Prince asked cautiously after a moment. "I wouldn't want them to come to any harm."

"They are not in any danger unlike you are. Chāzi know well enough when destruction is unnecessary. They will be safe here. Once you take back..."

The rest of Taeyong's words were lost as the sound of footsteps and yelling alerted them.

"Ride!" Taeyong almost shouted as they hurried to the stalls and Yukhei didn't take a second to mount Lightning, the roan mare whinnied in anticipation of the exercise.

Taeyong hustled Prince Sicheng into the stall and to the latter's surprise, mounted Wind and held out his hand to help him up. Prince Sicheng looked up quizzically at Taeyong. "That's m-my horse."

"Your Highness, we don't have time to saddle another!" Taeyong said firmly, his hand still reaching for the Prince's.

"I am not riding with..." Prince Sicheng heard the footsteps and voices getting louder.

"Find the Prince!"

That made him move hastily and mounted his horse with his lips in a tight line, despite his pride screaming in his head. To ride with someone else on Wind was preposterous. He was a _Prince_ , not some common lackey who can share horse rides. He barely had time to adjust his legs over his horse and his bottom awkwardly settled on the pommel when Taeyong reached around his waist from behind him to gather the reins, making him gasp. Prince Sicheng felt a little jolt as Taeyong nudged Wind to a hard gallop. He had nowhere else to hold on to save clutch Wind's mane and he would never do that. Instead, he rode low and clung onto his horse's neck with one hand and clutched at the edge of the pommel. He squeezed his knees tightly onto Wind's body.

The soldiers who were then at the the stable's entrance all scrambled out of the way lest be trampled on when they saw two magnificent thoroughbreds charging towards them. They raised their swords and fists in anger as they ran after them but failed to keep up with the horses.

At Prince Sicheng's direction, Taeyong led the horse through the twists and turns around buildings and finally reached their goal. Taeyong urged the skittish horse thru the narrow passage between the castle walls and the armory. Prince Sicheng tucked his knees in tightly to avoid grazing the walls. When they reached the gate, they met several castle soldiers looking alert and bowed before the Prince when they saw him.

"Your Highness! Thank God you're safe! His Majesty passed through here moments ago. He was badly wounded," one of them exclaimed.

"His Majesty is alive?" Prince Sicheng gasped, sounding hopeful.

"Yes, Your Highness. He was assisted by your very own wardens Liang and Yiwu. The other Royal guards and wardens all died trying to protect His Majesty before we came down here," another soldier added. "We were the only ones left and chose to remain just in case Your Highness might escape thru here. We're glad to see Your Highness is unharmed. We will retreat to the barracks south of the silver mines later where most of our forces are heading as we speak. His Majesty is headed there as well."

Prince Sicheng almost cried from joy. His father was alive. "Thank you. You've done well."

The Prince's elation was short lived, however, as they heard a thunder of hooves not far off behind.

"Your Highness, we shall escort you from here to His Majesty."

"There's no need," Taeyong suddenly spoke from behind. "My servant and I will protect the Prince. You must search for His Majesty and protect him instead. The Lieutenant blinked at Taeyong but nodded his head at the command, recognizing authority when he saw one.

"Find Father and please keep him safe," Sicheng pleaded.

"Yes,Your Highness! But you must go now and we will hold this gate for as long as we can. Hopefully they do not find it," the Lieutenant urged. "Please be careful."

The Prince's lips quivered. "You are good men of my Father. We _will_ see you there, Lieutenant."

The soldiers tapped their right hands on their hearts and bowed solemnly. "Long live the King."

Taeyong softly whispered, "we shall take His Highness to His Majesty."

The soldiers nodded with gratitude, as Taeyong nudged Wind to gallop away from behind the enormous rice mill and thru the dense woods.

***

Captain Xian stared down at the Prince as he was being dragged away by a man armed with swords. He knew those swords were used by Senshi, the elite Tsuyoi swordsmen. But he had the look of a nobleman. That unmistakable haughty gaze and the jutting of his chin as the man glanced at him screamed nobility. But he also looked to be a seasoned warrior by the way he moved, young as he was. There was something in his stance that triggered a familiarity in his head. The man was a Blade Master. That much was plain. But there was something else. Something of great import. And he seemed to be protecting the Prince. This might make things harder.

The Captain turned from the room and walked briskly along the wide marbled hallway with a grim expression. He cannot lose the Prince or King Cuànwèi will have his head on a platter if he returned empty handed. Captain Xian thought, he already lost the King of Richū. He cannot afford to lose the Prince as well. He must do his job specifically tasked by King Cuànwèi himself. His superiors reiterated he must find and kill King Wei Yong and his sons while they held the castle for King Cuànwèi. Afterwards, he must kill the rest of the Royal family. It was unfortunate that the rest of the Richū Royalty were in Valdavan.

The invasion on Chazhu Castle was only successful because of their stealth. Chazhu was taken by surprise and was unable to gather it's forces from the barracks to the east and south. The Chazhu Castle gatekeeper noticed the consecutive wagons which smuggled the disguised soldiers inside the castle grounds and halted it's entry. They tried to bribe the gatekeeper with a small bag of gold. When he did not accept it and almost alerted his superiors, they conveniently threatened to kill the gatekeeper and his family in order to allow the wagons from Chāzi loaded with soldiers impersonating retainers or commoners and their weapons thru. Not to mention the ongoing celebrations which had let their guard down. They had become complacent, thought Captain Xian with a smirk. Valdavan on the other hand, was a different matter.

But that was not his concern. He was a soldier, and a soldier follows commands. Kill the King of Richū and his sons who were in the castle. That was what he was told to do, and so he shall. He would rather die and rot in a poppy field than be devoured by his King's wrath.

"Captain," the soldier clicked his heels together and bowed. The Captain gave him a nod and the soldier walked with him. "The front gate has been secured and the Chazhu soldiers are now retreating to their barracks to the east and some to the south."

"They are scattering like rats. Good," the Captain replied, satisfied with how easy things were. "No need to pursue them since the castle is ours."

"Also, there were three men who fled from the stables on horseback. The soldiers couldn't catch up with the them and they disappeared from the castle grounds. It must be the Prince and his companions."

"They are likely headed either for the barracks near the mines or the ferry to Valdavan. But make haste to search for them in and around the city first. Spread word and search in smaller groups. We must find the Prince before he gains more distance." The Captain was alerted by the frown on his second in command's face. "Speak."

"That man in a black coat and armed with wakizashis we saw earlier from the balcony. He... seemed familiar."

The Captain halted and urged his Lieutenant to speak his mind, "go on."

"I may be mistaken but I know I have seen him in a skirmish off the border of Valdavan and Stancha when we tried to raze one of it's outposts a few years back. We were trying to get to the northern borders of Richū from it's coastline at the time, but their schooner caught up with us and we fought along the shores. I will never forget that man, Captain. He single-handedly battled two dozen men like a demon unleashed and he came out almost unscathed. I believe I know his identity. He is..."

Even before the soldier could finish his statement, the Captain realized why the man seemed familiar. How could he not have recognize the black-clad man right away. He was there during that skirmish and he saw him from afar.

"Yes, I know who he is Lieutenant," the Captain interjected. "Killing the Prince has become more... difficult. If we _accidentally_ executed that man who is now with the Prince, a great war will fall upon our heads and it will be the end of us all."

"What shall we do then, Captain?"

Captain Xian sighed as he thought of his predicament. His own King's wrath or the fury a King from another land. Either way, they would lose their necks. But he was a soldier who follows commands. "We hunt them down and take the Prince's head."

***

Prince Sicheng spared a glance back at Chazhu Castle and saw the Chāzi flag fluttering in the wind up the parapets as they rode out of the woods toward the city. His home was now held by the enemy. He wanted to scream, to let out his anguish and his defiance at such a vicious and senseless attack. He could feel his anger building inside him. This was all to much for him to bear and occurred too rapidly that he could do nothing. He felt desolate and useless. He could not even protect his family. But he told himself he will not let this weaken him. He must draw strength from this rage and stop himself from shedding tears only a weakling would do. He vowed to avenge his family and take back what was his. Prince Sicheng was brought back from his mulling over his condition by Taeyong's voice in his ear.

"Yukhei, we must split up as we enter the city and meet in the inn's stables to avoid alerting them. They know the three of us are together. Be careful."

Yukhei nodded and nudged Lightning as he veered to the left. "Yes, Master. And you as well."

Prince Sicheng watched Yukhei gallop away as they trotted to the opposite direction. He was suddenly aware of being alone with Taeyong and he felt a little uneasy. He shifted and wriggled his bottom on Wind and felt his horse become skittish.

"Your Highness, please settle down and relax," said Taeyong in a surprisingly strained voice.

"S-sorry," Prince Sicheng croaked when he realize his bottom was rubbing against somewhere it shouldn't. He refrained himself from moving and tried to sit still but couldn't stop his face from burning.

"I apologize for letting you ride with me like this Your Highness, but once we get to the stables, I'll get my own horse back."

"There's no need to apologize, Master Taeyong. It is I who should be apologizing and.. thanking you."

"Don't thank me yet," Taeyong said softly. "We're hardly safe from danger."

They entered the city limits in silence with Wind slowing down to a gait. Prince Sicheng scanned the area, noting the people had disappeared and the houses and shops lining the streets all had its doors and windows shut tightly. There was hardly a soul about save those few who were running with supplies or bundles towards safety, Sicheng presumed. Word of the attack on the castle must have spread. Prince Sicheng could only be thankful that the soldiers did not raze the city to embers. Chāzi soldiers must have known that doing so would be a useless destruction and will not benefit them in any way whatsoever. Sadly he could not do anything for his fallen countrymen in the castle except offer a silent prayer. But his brother Quiang... Prince Sicheng felt a sharp pang in his chest. He must set aside painful thoughts of him, for now.

Wind's hooves clattered on the cobblestones and the sound reverberated through the empty streets as Taeyong led the horse deeper into the city where the inn was located. It was too quiet and Prince Sicheng found it unsettling to his frayed nerves as his eyes flitted here to there and he swallowed nervously. Any moment soldiers could jump on them and catch them unaware. He knew of course that Master Taeyong was a superb warrior, excellent in fighting skills. But what if there were twenty or more soldiers? He would be of no help at all save his meager knife skills. He should have taken all his combat skills training seriously. Now it was too late. He was not even mildly adept at fencing. Suddenly, Prince Sicheng was afraid for the three of them.

They reached the inn and went round back to the stables. They met the frightened innkeeper and stablehand with Yukhei in deep discussion. Prince Sicheng noted the magnificent black horse he had seen Taeyong ride off before, already saddled and skittish.

"Stay here Your Highness. I'll speak with the innkeeper for a moment," Taeyong whispered as he dismounted from Wind.

Prince Sicheng sat watching them discussing and listened to what Taeyong had to say. They talked in hushed whispers and he could only catch phrases as "... died" and "... escaped to barracks" and also "need to establish a network to report any development or movements" and then lastly "use pigeons for messages and send them to Kaelaran." So, it appears Taeyong and Yukhei want to make the innkeeper Master Lim Joon some sort of spy to observe the movements and report any developments from the castle, thought Prince Sicheng. But why Kaelaran?

It was keen of Taeyong to use an innkeeper as spymaster, as they are the best source of information gathered from travelers or the regular customers whose tongues have loosened from the consumption of alcohol. The Prince admired their support and also Taeyong's decision to trust Master Lim. He had known the innkeeper since he was a young boy and well into his teens when they would distribute rations to farmers together with his mother. It was then that the three men turned their heads to look at him and the Prince fidgeted, wondering what they thought of him being there sitting atop Wind. The innkeeper's face looked somber as he approached the Prince.

"Y-your Highness," he began and bowed deeply. "I am... in great sorrow with these horrid events, and it saddens my heart that we lost His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince. But I am loyal to the Crown and I will lay down my life in the Royal Family's service. If there is anything anything Your Highness requires of me, it shall be done within my power."

Prince Sicheng nodded and gave a weak smile. "Thank you Master Lim, I have known you since I was a toddler and it is sad that we are going through... difficulties. I assure you, I am grateful for your support. If... _when_ this is all over, I shall personally see to it that you are greatly rewarded."

The innkeeper looked up at him with sad misty eyes yet Prince Sicheng could see the trace of hope in them. He wished he had that same hope in him but at the moment, all he felt was desolation.

"T-thank you, Your Highness. I am honored," The innkeeper bowed once more and turned to speak to the stablehand as Taeyong mounted the black stallion.

Prince Sicheng then had a thought as Taeyong led the horse toward him. "M-master Taeyong, what of Lightning? Will we leave him behind?"

"No, Your Highness," Taeyong said. "The stablehand will accompany us to the barracks and where we shall part ways."

" _We_? Did you mean just the stablehand or..."

Taeyong's face was placid as he explained, "Yukhei and I will travel back to Kaelaran once we send Your Highness to meet His Majesty."

"Oh. I thought... I thought you will accompany me to my family in Valdavan," Prince Sicheng said in a soft voice obviously tainted with confusion and disappointment. "But... but of course it was so imposing of me. I understand you must have other engagements. I beg your pardon for my confusion, and... and thank you for bringing me to my Father."

Taeyong merely nodded with a small frown and turned to speak with the innkeeper once more. Yukhei on the other hand avoided the Prince's questioning gaze and suddenly opted to pat and whisper into his dapple grey mare's ear. Prince Sicheng did not understand why he felt saddened by this new development but pushed it aside. He should understand Master Taeyong had his own life to live and not some lackey or warden obliged to stay with him till whenever he wished. Prince Sicheng pressed his lips tight together and chastised himself for being so petty. So what if the man had backed out of his word? What was it to him? He shouldn't be discouraged nor disappointed that their time together will be shorter. Besides Master Taeyong promised to take him to his father. So why did he feel sad?

"Your Royal Highness Prince Dong Sicheng, Third Prince of Richū, _Favored Prince by the Commons_ ," declared the young stablehand in a soft and timid voice as he went down on bended knee and bent his head. Prince Sicheng blinked and looked down at the boy who spoke out his formal title including the fond nickname dubbed by the peasants. "I am Lam Ting, Master Kim's stablehand. I shall be traveling as Your Highness's retainer. I am honored to be of service to Your Highness, our beloved Prince, who showered great love and care for lowly peasants such as myself. I would also like to tell Your Highness my family and I are indebted to you for when you took care of my ailing 8-year-old sister while my parents were toiling in the fields."

"P-please stand up, Master Ting. No need to be so formal since we are not in Court. Wait... Lam... Ming-ming? My adorable Ming-ming with no front teeth is your sister?" Prince Sicheng's face brightened in remembrance. "How has she been? She hasn't visited me for weeks. I missed reading stories to her."

"She is well, Your Highness. She is with Mother, visiting relatives in the west," Ting supplied looking overwhelmed and sheepish being addressed by Royalty. "Thank you for asking Your Highness."

"Then I'm relieved she is safe. She's my _friend_ ," Prince Sicheng said fondly. It was then that the Prince noticed Taeyong staring at him intently while he sat on Midnight, as if seeing him for the first time. It made the Prince uncomfortable and self-conscious. "I'm glad you will be traveling with me."

"We are wasting time. We must ride now or risk the Chāzi soldiers spring upon us," Taeyong said curtly.

Prince Sicheng straightened, stiff as a board trying not to be embarrassed while he watched Ting mount Lightning. This Master Taeyong the warrior had returned and the kind and patient one had disappeared. The Prince pursed his lips at Taeyong who gave final instructions to the innkeeper. It appeared this man was more complex than he thought.

The travelers on horseback milled out of the narrow passage round back the inn and spilled out of the cobbled street heading east. Taeyong led them to a trot through the now deserted roads, whipping his head left and right as if trying to pinpoint possible danger. No one spoke as a sense of anticipation of the unknown and peril fell upon them like a dark cloud.

Prince Sicheng stared at Taeyong's back as they gained speed toward the borders of Chazhu City. Having nothing else to do except ponder, he entertained the thought of Taeyong being a mystery. At times he seemed kind and warm. But most of the time he appeared cold and ruthless. It was a duality that the Prince found intriguing, thinking he had never met such an enigmatic person in his life. Most of the people he came in contact with were as open as the books he read at their library. The Prince sniffed at his wandering thoughts and scoffed at himself being silly. First he felt the need for Taeyong to protect him. Then he wanted the cold warrior to accompany him to Valdavan. Now he was disappointed to find out their travel together will be shorter. Clearly, he was trying to avoid the real issue within himself. His sorrow and pain. However, thinking of those two brought about almost the same result. He sighed and decided it was best to leave all thoughts aside and focus on staying alive. _Yes, that should be it_.

By the time the four of them reached the huge but empty elongated plaza at the heart of the city, they halted at the sound of heavy footsteps that seemed to belong to a dozen or more men. Soldiers looking for them, thought Prince Sicheng and he felt his innards twist into a knot inside him.

"Go this way!" Taeyong pulled the reins to his left to the opposite direction thru a line of closed meat shops and galloped fast, away from the sound. The three others followed him toward the city limits. Prince Sicheng kept on glancing behind him down the road, squinting to see if he could have a view of their pursuers but failed to do so. They must have lost their tail, he thought with some relief.

When they reached the edge of the city where the dotting of thatched houses were even lesser, Taeyong motioned everyone to halt. Prince Sicheng saw the reason why as he followed the direction of Taeyong's gaze. From a not so far distance, a fistful of soldiers were headed towards them. Some were pikemen on foot and some were melee warriors armed with two-handed greatswords. But those were not the real threat. Three of the soldiers were on horseback and they had arrows nocked onto their bowstrings, ready to aim and fire once they were near enough to cause fatal injury or even death.

"Yukhei, lead His Highness to safety. I'll take care of them," Taeyong said with urgency as he veered Midnight toward the oncoming soldiers. "I'll meet you at the cave we saw to the east of the castle."

"Master! No! They have archers!" Yukhei yelled his warning but his master paid no heed. "You're not invincible damn it!"

"Now Yukhei!" Taeyong sprinted forward with a grim face, about to enter the fray.

Prince Sicheng had no idea where it came from but he felt a sudden surge of anger and boiling vengeance for his brother. His rage filled his head and had no thoughts except to help Taeyong and kill those who murdered his brother as he kicked Wind to gallop hard after Taeyong.

"YOUR HIGHNESS! NO!" The Prince heard Yukhei scream in horror but ignored him. "YOU MIGHT GET KILLED!"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for the delay... but anyways, chapter 6 is also on the works hehe. btw i'd like to thank you so much for all the kudos and comments. i really appreciate it, and thank you so much for reading! please share your thoughts coz i'd love to hear it as we go along with this story. anyways, i'll update as fast as i can. XD  
> y'all have a good one! much love! - ice <333


	6. Black and White Lies

 

 

 

Taeyong gritted his teeth as he rode Midnight toward the ominous group of soldiers who were more than three hundred paces away. He could avoid those archers easily, he thought, knowing it was still too far for their shortbows for any real damage. Maybe. Taeyong only knew that if their party tried to outrun these soldiers, it would be an unending flight, never knowing when they could pounce with stealth despite his and Yukhei’s keen alertness and reflexes. Best to get rid of them now and stall them from alerting the others for reinforcements while they fled from these Chāzi rodents.

Taeyong slowed to a stop when he calculated they were more than two hundred paces away. He was intent on gauging how he would defend the onslaught, how he would avoid the pikemen’s attack by tumbling low and tripping them on their feet since they would be slow to attack with a heavy pike. He knew how he would dodge and evade the swordsmen swinging the blades and how they would tend to likely swing downward to gain force for a two handed-sword. The archers would prove some difficulty. He must shield himself from the arrows using his opponents.

Taeyong was lost in his strategy that the sudden movement to his left caught him off guard as Prince Sicheng drew the tanto strapped to his thigh. He gaped at the Prince who now held the dagger’s grip tightly in his fist, a stern expression on his usually angelic face.

“Are you daft?!” Taeyong spat out in fury. “Get back there Your Highness! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Prince Sicheng turned to face him with a dark expression. “Are you? _I_ want to avenge my family. _I_ have a reason.”

“Wha—get the fu— hell back there! Now, I say!” Taeyong sputtered, as if remembering who he was speaking to. “I don’t care if you’re the sharpest Blade Master in this land. You need to stay alive!”

“What of you? Are you as insane in planning to fight over twenty men and three of them archers on horseback?” Prince Sicheng said defiantly, his chin jutting upward as high as it would go. “You think you’re immortal?”

Taeyong squinted at the Prince. He had clearly lost his screws. “I SAID GET THE HELL BACK!”

Both Midnight and Wind were blowing and snorting while they kicked back dirt nervously at their master’s shouts as well as sensing the threat ahead of them.

It was then when they were having a glaring contest of sorts that an arrow whizzed past between their faces and flew toward the would be attackers. They blinked in confusion as they followed the arrow’s direction and both gaped when they saw it pierce the chest of the archer who was already aiming his bow at them. They looked at one another and whipped their heads back to find Ting already nocking another arrow on his longbow, drew, aimed and released. Taeyong felt the arrow zoom through the air between him and the Prince and easily killed the second archer. Ting had already nocked a third arrow to shoot at the last archer who aimed the arrow at the Prince, but it was too late. The arrow was already released by the time Ting’s arrow perforated the archer’s chest.

Taeyong’s quick thinking calculated the arrow will likely hit the Prince’s chest or shoulder so he pushed the latter from Wind and he consequently fell on the ground with a grunt followed by a very loud and unbecoming expletive. Unfortunately it didn’t save Taeyong from being nicked by the sharp arrowhead on his upper arm, just below the shoulder.

The men were only over a hundred paces by now, Taeyong gleaned from the distance. He cursed as he got off his horse and sauntered towards the would be attackers. Taeyong was grateful to Ting’s marksmanship that the pikemen were all lying on the ground, either dead or wounded. All he had to deal with now were over a dozen swordsmen, he thought, as he pulled his swords from behind and twirled them so that he held the wakizashi on his left hand with the blade upward, and on his right hand the blade pointing to the ground.

The soldiers ran toward Taeyong howling threateningly, swords in the air and ready to strike. He dodged from the first sword that was swung at him and swooped down in an almost squatting position to extend his leg and hooked his foot onto the first attacker’s ankle and pulled at it so that he lost balance and fell. Taeyong quickly stabbed him using his right hand and slashed the second attacker in the abdomen with the blade in his left hand, the keen edge easily cutting through the soft padded armor Chāzi soldiers wore. Four more attackers came forward and almost simultaneously lifted their swords to strike downward at Taeyong who was still low on the ground. Before their swords could strike, Taeyong launched himself up in the air to spin with his swords jutting outward and slashed his attackers as he twirled. When he landed on his two feet, all of them were down on the ground, gutted and bleeding.

Only a few more remained, which were the ones Ting had failed to shoot at and Taeyong easily slashed, dodged, spun and kicked in a series of movements one could liken to a graceful but deadly dance. By the time he was done, his arm had bled profusely. But he paid no heed, thankful that his black coat disguised his flesh wound. It was not deep, nor was it fatal, he thought. He will tend to it later when they were safely hidden.

He inspected the Chāzi soldiers one by one, making sure all of them were dead and cut the throats of those who still drew breath. He cannot risk leaving anyone alive for fear the soldier might inform the rest of their whereabouts. Taeyong pursed his lips as he wiped his blades on one of the soldier’s cape before sheathing them into it’s scabbards, then turned back to rejoin his party.

Taeyong strode over to the Prince who held the reins of Wind with arms akimbo. Midnight stood by snorting, sensing the tension. Taeyong gritted his teeth as he faced the Prince whose eyes were wide and glittering.

“What came over you that you were so eager to throw your life away? The very life your own brother, the Crown Prince, saved. Does that not have any meaning to you? Your _... Highness_?”

Taeyong knew the manner he addressed the Prince was insulting but he could barely contain his ire. His face was as placid as a still lake yet he knew his eyes gleamed with anger, even with trying to utilize the principles he learned from martial arts and emptying himself of all emotions and invoking the power of the Void. It didn’t even come close to working, and it shook him to the core yet couldn’t understand why. Taeyong balled his fists and steeled himself from punching the Prince’s pretty face or worse throttling his delicate neck. He was on the verge of doing so if not for his gaze falling upon the Prince’s pout that distracted him somehow. The Prince’s folly almost cost him his own life and the rest of theirs as well and yet... he felt... something which he was not prepared to face. Taeyong pushed the thought aside and yelled, “I specifically told you to stay back and go with Yukhei to safety! But what did you do? You defied me, took my dagger and almost got hit by an arrow if not for me shoving you aside!”

“Oh, so now I have to thank you for bruising my bottom? Yes, I... _defied_ you. Why? I was... am angry! Angry that it is I who should be killing those men. I should have defended my family and my home and my kingdom. Yet I had to rely on you... a complete stranger who orders me about!” The Prince took a step closer and glared at Taeyong. “You are uncouth and you dare insult me by throwing me off my horse!”

“And let you die? You are no warrior. You’re a... _soft_ Prince who has no skill nor the capability to hurt anybody... not even when you were about to be butchered, you stared wide-eyed at your attacker. You would have been dead if I hadn’t sliced your attacker’s neck in two. You have to stop this idiotic notion of revenge.”

“You can’t force me to stop wanting vengeance! Here you are preaching about me trying to waste my life in a senseless battle whereas you... you who have no apparent reason whatsoever are always eager to throw your life away. You fling yourself onto danger at every opportunity, without thought of your own safety! You could have died out there! If not for Master Ting’s marksmanship you would have been skewered on a pike even before you were cut into tiny pieces and become bird feed! Do you have a death wish? Have you lost the will to live? Have you no care for your loved ones you will leave behind?” The Prince was bristling with spite and screeched at Taeyong’s face which was mere inches from him. “Besides, why do you care if my useless _Royal ass_ gets killed. It is none of your business!”

“My... loved ones can fend for themselves without me. As for your question if I have lost the will to live, I can speak plainly, that it is none of your business too... Your Highness,” Taeyong spoke softly as he took a step dangerously closer to the Prince himself, their faces a mere breath away. Taeyong let his eyes roam over the soft features before him in intense scrutiny. He could feel the hot breath of the Prince on his mouth and something in him broke out, like a dam bursting with the water gushing out in torrents. “And just so you know, I can think of several... _entertaining_ _uses_ for your pretty little Royal ass.”

Taeyong locked with the Prince’s outraged bulging eyes, while his own were hot with fury and something else in him he found yet undefinable. Something that frightened him and was not ready to discern.

They were both unaware of their two companions whose mouths were hanging open while watching them with their eyes popping out as though it were an unspeakable scene from a play in a brothel house.

Yukhei was the first to recover, cleared his throat and but then stumbled over his words. “Your Royal Ass—Hassne— _Highness_ ,” Yukhei buried his forehead onto his open palms, horrified at his own blunder. Ting choked on his own breath.

Yukhei took a deep breath and continued. “Master Taeyong, if you’re both done with your quaint little love spat we can all go now. Otherwise, the rest of the enemy soldiers might find us and we’ll all indeed end up as bird feed.”

That seemed to have jolted both of them to reality and Taeyong stiffened. The Prince’s cheeks were painted red as he tore off his gaze from Taeyong then sheathed the blade in it’s scabbard by his thigh, then glared at Taeyong’s obnoxious servant before mounting Wind. Yukhei bit at his lips looking sheepish.

“We must ride to the east. Dusk is upon us. I want to reach that copse with a cave before it gets too late,” Taeyong said curtly as he sauntered over to his horse and mounted it. He could still feel anger but more at himself than the Prince, and for his statement that shocked even himself. He kicked at Midnight to gallop ahead of them not minding if they were already behind him, miffed at what had just occurred and at himself.

Taeyong wracked his brain trying to fathom the reason why the Prince aroused such strong emotions from him. For one, he barely knew the man. However when he saw the arrow fly toward the Prince, his heart was suddenly filled with fright for his companion’s life. Why he was afraid of the Prince getting hurt, he had no clear notion except perhaps the strange sentiment it evoked from him. What amazed Taeyong was that he had thought he was by now devoid of all feeling that may emerge from him, triggered by any source, especially by a human being. Yet there he was screaming his head off because he was... worried. He found this to be very peculiar. Taeyong decided having such emotions was dangerous and distracting. He vowed to push thoughts such as those aside from now on. It was only when he came upon such decision that he felt better and more of himself.

They rode at a fast pace, the moon bathing their paths with pale moonbeams as they galloped hard for several hours through dense forests without anyone speaking a word. Taeyong could slowly feel the strain of exhaustion threatening to surface but quelled it. He knew they were being hunted and his only goal was to bring the Prince to safety or at the very least further away from the enemies. He could feel his arm tingling and numbness started to set on his upper arm. His left sleeve was drenched with hot and sticky blood and began to feel uncomfortable. The older flow of blood had begun to encrust over the wound but he could still feel fresh blood seeping out of the wound whenever he pulled at the reins. He promised himself to douse it with Yukhei’s rice wine and tie a cloth around it to stop the blood from flowing.

The moon was well over their heads when they finally arrived at the thick copse that shielded the relatively large cavern and small clearing in front of it, with a narrow clear stream that ran alongside it. It was perfect for camping for the night, thought Taeyong. The thick leafy branches interweaving above them offered protection from the chill and will also filter the smoke from a fire as long as it was a small one. It won’t be seen from the outside and alert unwanted notice from a distance.

He spared a surreptitious glance at the Prince who sat on a jutting root looking sullen and hid a smile of amusement.Taeyong knew the Prince was upset at the earlier events but kept quiet and chose to ignore both him and Yukhei, speaking only to Ting who kept fussing over him. Serves him right for disobeying him. But then he recalled the man had just lost his... well, everything. Taeyong had the decency to chastise himself and felt shame. He shook his head at his own callousness.

Taeyong barked orders at his servant to start a small fire and to try to heat up water for some tea. And after his meal, to be the first lookout and promised to replace him after a couple of hours. His retainer didn’t waste any time in preparing a fire after gathering some nearby relatively dry twigs. Ting tended to the horses, removing the saddles and rubbing each one down then feeding them fodder from a feedbag.

The innkeeper had thoughtfully provided for some supplies at short notice and even some soft stuffed buns for supper and dried fruit. Taeyong had no appetite and even thinking about food made him nauseous. He rummaged through Yukhei’s saddlebag. He found a small canister of wine. He took that as well as a long linen cloth Yukhei kept for drying his utensils. He then took out his cloak from his own saddlebags and a fresh silk shirt which he bundled together. He avoided Yukhei’s questioning glances as he walked out of the clearing.

Taeyong set out to clean his wound, walking upstream until he was hidden from prying eyes. He found a large outcrop by a tree where he settled himself and placed his clothes, canister and towel beside him. He unstrapped his weapons and set them aside. After slowly easing out of his blood-soaked coat with some difficulty, Taeyong unstrapped his leather vest and bracers, stifling his groans for fear of being overheard by his companions. He then peeled his silk shirt off, hissing at the stinging pain as he felt the dried blood fusing the material to his skin and the wound itself.

He inspected the wound and found it to be slightly deep but thankfully it was not gaping so that it required stitches. Squatting by the stream, he soaked the bloodied black shirt into the flowing water and washed them to rinse off the blood completely and did the same to his coat. The tear was not too ragged that it can still be mended by Yukhei later on. He wrung them both of excess water and spread out the wet clothes on the outcrop to dry them. Afterwards he scooped up some of the cool spring water to wash off the blood on his arm and torso, mindless of the post-winter chill. When he was satisfied that all the dried blood had been washed off, he settled back on the outcrop and doused the wound with the wine. He winced at the sharp sting. Then he tied the linen around the wound with effort, having only his teeth and one hand to do it. Checking his handiwork, it seemed tight enough to hold the bleeding and prevent infection, hopefully.

Taeyong slipped into his fresh shirt and re-strapped his protective gear and his weapons. He threw the heavy  black woolen cloak over his body and fastened it around his neck loosely. Taeyong sighed and leaned against the tree trunk, somewhat drained from all the exertion. Notwithstanding he had been fighting almost the whole day, he was still not extremely exhausted but merely weakened from losing some blood. If not for Prince Sicheng, he would not have been nicked by the arrow. The fool was trying to be a hero and it irked him. How could he have thought he would be able to survive those seasoned soldiers who knew nothing but kill.

With a deeply drawn sigh, Taeyong propped his head against the tree and closed his eyes. He smirked at the Prince’s outraged expression when he teased him. He found it amusing that he brought about a strong reaction from the Prince. He also found it strange that they barely knew each other yet they had a clashing of sorts. But then his smile was wiped off at the thought of actually wanting to do those things he insinuated. He shook his head and thought he must be a fool to think that he actually wanted to do it. It was his tiredness. Yes, that was definitely it. He felt a little weak so he brain was trying to cope with his body’s weariness.

Taeyong let out another deep sigh. Perhaps a short nap would refresh him and regain his strength then afterwards he might drink some tea before he took the next shift for look-out. In no time, he dozed off to slip into dreamland.

_Taeyong felt hands run across his body, fingers teasing as they slid all over his chest. The soft nibbling on his ear felt wet and delightful. His eyes fluttered open to peer at the one sitting on his lap cozily and found himself staring into Prince Sicheng’s glittering, desire-filled eyes. A sigh escaped him as the Prince’s hand slid under his shirt to graze his fingertips over his nipple and tweaked it until it stiffened. “Y-your Highness... wha—“ Taeyong’s words were lost when the Prince swooped down to claim his mouth, enclosing them with his moist and full lips. He felt his heart racing as the Prince slipped his tongue inside his cavern to tease and explore. Taeyong met the invasion with fervor, gently sucking on it to earn soft whimpers from the Prince. Taeyong groaned when the Prince retrieved his hand from underneath his shirt to land gently on his crotch and squeezed on his manhood. He could feel himself hardening with every adept movement of the hand. Taeyong grabbed the Prince’s head with both hands and tore his mouth from him to let it trail down his chin, his tongue tasting the soft and silky smooth skin of his throat. Taeyong bit on the sinews and the Prince let out a deep growl. He gasped as the Prince expertly undid his trousers and slipped his hand inside. Taeyong sucked and bit on the soft tendons of the Prince’s throat, groaning in pleasure as the hand shoved aside his loincloth and wrapped the delicate and soft fingers around his hard and throbbing cock._

_“I’d like you to use me now as you said you would,_ Your Lordship _...”_

Taeyong woke up with a jolt, his heart racing inside his chest. He tried to calm himself and catch his breath as he sat up straight. What on earth made him dream such a... sordid scene? Maybe not that sordid, but shocking to say the least. Taeyong ran his fingers thru his ash grey hair as though trying to erase the vivid dream from his head. He must have been really exhausted and denied the fact for his brain to conjure a dream such as that. Taeyong took another deep breath to recollect himself and gathered his things, still dazed, and walked back toward the camp. He had to get that man out of his head and his life as fast as he can. Taeyong had to admit the Prince was messing up his brain to the point of distraction and it didn’t sit well with him. Not only that, but there also was the matter of Prince Sicheng finding out who he really was. It bothered him that if the Prince found out, it would be beyond awkward and embarrassing to say the least. For both of them. His pride was at stake.

***

Prince Sicheng’s eyes fluttered open and hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until now. He must have been drained from all the horrible events earlier. He has yet to discover if he will ever recover from this pain and anxiety. He needed to get to his father as fast as he could, and be rid of the awful man, the Royal Envoy Lee Taeyong who was uncouth, unsavory and undisciplined. He had no manners whatsoever, throwing him off his horse, screaming at him, ordering him about and the list went on. He would pray for the day he would never lay eyes on him again. What if he had broken bones as he fell from Wind? It would have been excruciating. It had happened to him before and he could still remember how awful it was to break an arm.

That Lee Taeyong really had the knack for annoying him, thought Prince Sicheng as he pouted. _He had the audacity to... to... insult my Royal ass. The nerve_. Prince Sicheng now realized it was a mistake to trust the man to be kind to him. He already had an idea how cold and ruthless he was, so why did he still beg the awful man to stay behind and help him? He should have just died in the castle with his brother. He felt his life was meaningless anyway. Meaningless, pointless and useless. He had nothing now, save the rest of his family who are now literally in exile in Valdavan. Prince Sicheng pursed his lips as the tried to fight back the tears that welled in his eyes. This was truly the most horrible day in his life.

Prince Sicheng blinked as he realized Taeyong was holding the tip of a dagger between his thumb and index finger, staring intently. Coldly even, directly at him. Prince Sicheng frowned as he aimed the dagger at his head. His eyes widened in fear. Was Taeyong really that fed up with him that wanted to end his life? All the while saying he was concerned about him but now Taeyong aiming a dagger at him was confusing. Prince Sicheng opened his mouth to articulate a strongly worded warning but was shushed by the man as he aimed the dagger.

“Don’t move a muscle,” was his soft warning. Prince Sicheng scowled. He had clearly lost his head, and then his eyes widened as Taeyong threw the dagger and it thwacked the trunk just beside his left ear. The Prince shuddered.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you that upset that you had to use me as target practice or did you want to kill me now?” The Prince yelled at him.

Taeyong motioned toward him to look him in the eye with coldness like a winter’s night. Taeyong leaned close to his face to mere inches, their noses almost touching, and whispered, “you’re welcome. Again.” He pulled out the dagger from the tree trunk and as he did a Saw-scaled Viper, one of the deadliest snakes in their region, fell limp on the Prince’s lap with a gaping hole in it’s head.

Prince Sicheng gasped, staring at the dead snake on his leg. Taeyong flicked it from him with his dagger, the tip dangerously pointing at his privates. He looked up at Taeyong as the latter straightened up and walked out to disappear into the woods. Prince Sicheng could feel his heart in his throat as he glanced at the snake on the ground. Taeyong had saved his life. Again.

He stood up from the bedroll he had been sitting on and walked away from the snake, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Prince Sicheng started to follow Taeyong, to apologize for being hasty with his words, and perhaps even thank him, if he were kind to him this time. Prince Sicheng had been wondering about that. Why did they clash all the time? It was like they were rubbing each other’s furs the wrong way most of the time. He sighed as he walked toward the way Taeyong went. But then halted as he saw two young men enter the encampment, their hands up in the air looking worse for wear and somewhat frightened. Ting was behind them, two arrows nocked on his longbow and aimed at the men.

“Your Highness, I found these two lurking in the woods spying on us,” Ting declared.

Prince Sicheng furrowed his brows as he noted the young men’s attires, their demeanor and the way they carried their heads. Their hands looked soft and delicate, not like those of farmers or dockmen’s calloused ones. Noble, thought Prince Sicheng. It took one to know one, of course. They appeared to be younger than him and they both wore daggers around their thighs much like the way Taeyong wore his, barely covered by their traveling cloaks. Somehow, the younger man looked familiar in some way. Prince Sicheng reminded him of someone but couldn’t place who.

“It’s alright, Ting. They don’t seem to be any threat,” Prince Sicheng said patiently. “These gentlemen are harmless.”

“A-are you certain, Your Highness?” Ting looked at them dubiously.

“Y-your Highness?” The two intruders gaped then looked at each other with utter surprise on their faces.

Prince Sicheng smiled at the two boys as he approached them. “May I know who you young boys are? You look to be lost.”

The one with dark ash blonde hair hair glanced at his companion as if urging him to speak. The elder looking boy with black hair cleared his throat and bowed formally. “Your Highness we come from Kaelaran. I am Lord Lee Minhyung, Viscount of Yulyeong-ui, only son of the Earl of Yulyeong-ui. This is my first cousin.”

The boy with ash blonde hair bowed. “Y-Your Higness, Uhm... I am Lo—” he stuttered but was unable to finish his introduction as he was interrupted by Taeyong who emerged from the woods carrying some hares on a string.

“Your Highness, may I present His Lordship Lee Jeno, The Marquess of Sarang.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 19/11/2018  
> hey guys! we finally meet Jeno and Mark in the story lol. i’m so hyped by the following chapters coz we’ll learn more about “His Lordship, the Marquess of Sarang” and his cousin, Lord Minhyung. They are first cousins. His Grace, the Duke of Sarang is the elder brother of the Earl of Yulyeong-ui, mark’s dad.
> 
> Just to clarify and avoid confusion in this story, only a Marquess, first son of a Duke, is addressed as His Lordship, Your Lordship and more informal My Lord. He is addressed as Lord Sarang (the dukedom), not Lord Jeno. Other titled nobles are either addressed as Lord or Lady or My Lord or My Lady. mark who is a Viscount in this story should be called Lord Yulyeong-ui (the earldom) but not Viscount Minhyung and never Your Lordship. BUT, to avoid confusion again lol, we’ll refer to mark as Lord Minhyung and not his earldom, Yulyeong-ui. SORRY FOR CONFUSING YOU KJFKDSJFJ I’M CONFUSED MYSELF XD- ice <333


	7. Misconceptions and Miscalculations

 

 

 

“Marquess of Sarang,” Prince Sicheng murmured as he stared at the young man before him. “ _You_...?” But the Marquess’s undivided attention was directed at Taeyong who, the Prince noted, curiously had the expression of a very, very furious man.

“M-mar—... I... y—ou... M-minhyung and I... w-we..” were the words that came out of the Marquess, sputtering at the sight of Taeyong, his eyes filled with dread. Lord Minhyung clapped his hand over his gaping mouth.

The Prince looked at the three of them back and forth in confusion with a crease between his brows. He felt something was amiss here. _It can’t be._ The Marquess of Sarang was a mere boy, much younger than he had thought. More importantly, why do they seem afraid of Taeyong? What was he to these noblemen? Was he their guardian or a warden of some sort?

“Oh... my... God,” Yukhei exclaimed, dropping the dried twigs in his arms, his eyes large as saucers when he saw the boys as he came out of the woods from behind his master. “What are you two—“ His intended sentence was lost when Taeyong shoved the dead rabbits at him. He had to clutch them to his chest lest those fall on the ground as well, but his surprise cannot be disguised.

“Lord Minhyung,” Taeyong said as he squinted at the boys. “Lord Sarang, might I ask what brought the two of you hereabouts? Were you not supposed to be at the Sarang Summer Palace, _safe and sound_?”

“M-minhyung and I thought to follow you when we heard Uncle sent you to Chazhu. We got curious because of the Pr—...”

“I tried to dissuade Jeno, but he thought it would be a good idea to see His Highness because you and His High—...”

The two boys were speaking hurriedly over each other while Taeyong gritted his teeth, seemingly trying to prevent himself from whacking them with his balled up fists. “Stop,” Taeyong said softly.

As if by magic, the two Lords ceased their avid explaining but both of them looked like they were about to hurl. The Prince folded his arms across his chest as he watched the scene before him silently. There was surely more to it than two boys who, from what he gathered, were out here for some ludicrous thought of adventuring to see _him_. The Prince definitely felt something was amiss and his gut feel was speaking to himself in indiscernible volumes. Somehow he felt there was mystery he needed to uncover sooner or later. _Why are they so curious about seeing me and... Taeyong?_

“Lord Minhyung, you should have known better than to listen to your _persuasive_ cousin,” said Taeyong in a dangerously quiet voice. “You are older and supposedly wise enough to know the dangers of traveling unescorted. Especially now that it has become perilous to travel when Chāzi soldiers attacked Chazhu Castle.”

“Attacked? We didn’t know. W-we apologize, Your Lo—” began Lord Minhyung.

The Marquess followed suit, simultaneously speaking out with, “We had no idea Chazhu was attacked. I’m sorry br—”.

“Enough,” interrupted Taeyong as he walked between the two and put our his arms to rest over their shoulders. Then he addressed the Prince saying, “Your Highness, please excuse us while I... speak with these young gentlemen.”

The Prince noted Taeyong squeezing their shoulders, none too gently making the two Lords groan and whine in their discomfort. Taeyong pushed the two toward Yukhei and he said, “Yukhei, why don’t you lead His Lordship and Lord Minhyung to help you skin the hares.”

“W-wait,” Prince Sicheng said, wanting to speak to the Marquess. All heads turned toward the Prince and he swallowed nervously. “If I may have a moment with... with the Marquess?”

Taeyong paused momentarily to squint at the Prince. “Perhaps later, Your Highness. I must speak with them first. Please excuse us.”

“But why can’t we speak now?” Prince Sicheng asked with eyebrows lifting haughtily.

“Because I said so,” Taeyong said with his voice soft and laced with impatience.

“Really?” The Prince sauntered over them and stood before Taeyong then lifted his chin as he looked down on him. He was about an inch taller, but when the Prince received the blazing glare from Taeyong he felt himself cower a little. But only for a few seconds until he recovered from the fierce look he received from those dark glittering eyes. “And who are you to push people around like this as though you were some mighty general commanding his army and we your meager soldiers?”

Taeyong took a step forward and met the Prince’s defiant expression with a cold stare that would have given chills down anyone’s spine. “I am nobody to you, but these young men are under my care. If something were to happen to them it would mean my neck hanging from a rope.”

“Well, you hardly cared about your _lovely_ neck earlier so why should you care now?” The Prince regretted his subconscious choice of adjective the moment he blurted it out and seeing the flicker in Taeyong’s eyes. It hardly suited his quip and it made him waver. He tried to recover from his slip and added, “the world would be grateful to be rid of one less obnoxious person.”

The Prince and Taeyong were unaware of Ting retreating softly back into the woods while Yukhei grabbed the two boys by their shirtsleeves while whispering softly, “best not be here when the volcano erupts. Come with me you two.”

Prince Sicheng could see the vein in Taeyong’s temple pulsating while the blood rushed to his face in anger. _Have I gone too far? And why am I speaking to him this way?_ He wondered at himself being so easily provoked by this man. He hardly even knew Taeyong yet strangely enough he evoked strong feelings from his usually dormant emotions. He noted Taeyong’s right eye twitch making his scar more noticeable to him and it made his eyes even more attractive. _What the—shit._

“Do not worry, Your Highness. You shall be rid of me soon enough. Once I have escorted you to His Majesty, I shall bring my... the Lords Sarang and Minhyung back to Kaelaran. You shall... _never_ see me again afterwards. That, I promise,” Taeyong said with the emphasis of the word ‘never’ very distinct, then walked out of the clearing and into the woods to be swallowed by the darkness.

The Prince looked around to realize he was all by himself and inexplicably felt so lonely.

***

Taeyong stood with his legs slightly apart and arms akimbo as he listened to the two boys blathering simultaneously. His patience was wearing thin, not only for discovering the young Lords had apparently escaped from Kaelaran and traveled all the way to Chazhu on horseback. He found their explanation preposterous.

“We were curious about the Prince,” Lord Sarang said with his eyes squinting, seemingly smiling with his lips. “You know why, My Lord.”

Taeyong snorted in contempt.

“You mean _you_ were curious,” Lord Minhyung interjected. “I really tried to stop him, My Lord but...”

“But you were the one who sneaked our horses out,” the Marquess complained.

“I... didn’t. I only took care of the supplies.”

“Why would you two do such a thing? If His Majesty, His Grace and Lord Yulyeong-ui finds out... it will be worse than death for me... us.” Yukhei snapped at the boys while washing the rabbits in the stream where they all stood by.

“They will find out in the morning. The pigeons would have arrived by then,” Taeyong said in exasperation. “You two will be the death of me.”

“We’re sorry,” said Lord Minhyung earnestly.

“Yeah, we’re really sorry,” added Lord Sarang.

“This poses a problem,” Taeyong said thoughtfully, ignoring their apologies. “Yukhei and I must escort His Highness to His Majesty. It is almost a week’s journey to the barracks near the mines as I recall from studying the maps. But you must be brought back home immediately.”

“We’ll come with you then!” Lord Sarang exclaimed excitedly. Lord Minhyung groaned. “We brought supplies of our own so you needn’t worry.”

“Well, that solves everything!” Yukhei rolled his eyes.

“But, My Lord,” Lord Sarang began, his brows creased with a frown. “Why lie about who you are?”

Taeyong pursed his lips. It was something he was not prepared to confront. He felt Yukhei watch him quietly as he strung the rabbits back after shaking off the excess water.

“I... honestly have no idea,” was Taeyong’s simple response.

“He’s embarrassed, among... other reasons,” Yukhei supplied. Taeyong glared at his servant who merely shrugged and walked back to the encampment.

“Y-you’re... _shy_? Why?!”” Lord Sarang gaped at Taeyong while Lord Minhyung sniggered then stifled it when he saw Taeyong’s murderous gaze.

Taeyong clamped his mouth shut tightly and approached the two, flicking both their ears to earn ‘ouches’ from them. “None of your damn business. Now get back there and gather your horses then look after them. Afterwards prepare your bedrolls.”

Taeyong watched the two grumble in acquiescence while nursing their ears as they went back to the clearing. He massaged his temple with his hand and cursed inwardly. This was becoming all the more difficult, seeing he needed to protect not only the Prince but also the two boys. If anything would happen to any of his charges...no he would not think of it. He knew his capability in protecting them and he was confident in his skills. _But not your emotions._ Taeyong snorted at the thought. It was unbelievable that the Prince seemed to irritate him ostensibly.

Taeyong recalled his dream about the Prince and shuddered. He must really set aside his personal struggles and focus on what was important. Their lives depended on it. Emotions were for the weak and he was neither a weakling, nor easily susceptible to... _Princes_ any longer. The affirmation seemed to have settle him as he headed back after the two. He sighed, knowing he was fooling only himself.

***

For about the past three hours Prince Sicheng was unable to sleep. He twisted and turned this way and that, trying to avoid the jutting roots and rocks from underneath his bedroll as he tugged at the thin blanket trying to draw warmth from it. He shouldn’t complain. The fact that he was still breathing was a blessing. And despite Taeyong being ridiculously annoying, he should still be thankful to him for that. Although it bothered Prince Sicheng that he got easily riled by almost everything Taeyong said or did. It was incredulous. He recalled Taeyong saying he shall never see him again after escorting him to meet his father. That should please him, shouldn’t it? He would be rid of Taeyong’s impertinent and obnoxious presence.

Taeyong prevented him from speaking directly with Lord Sarang the whole evening while they ate rabbit roasted over the fire and Prince Sicheng was bristling. Whenever he tried to ask anything from the Marquess, Taeyong would interrupt them and answer most of his queries. Prince Sicheng only wanted to ask Lord Sarang about the proposal out of curiosity for one, and inquire about his opinion on the Prince seeking aid from the King of Kaelaran in possibilities of taking back Chazhu Castle for another. Taeyong was obviously being petty and over-reacting.

The Prince turned to his side to avoid the sharp rock poking at his shoulder and opened his eyes. The two young Lords were asleep and Lord Minhyung was snoring and mumbling incoherent words alternately. The Prince found them adorable, despite Taeyong trying to disrupt their conversations. They were witty and absolutely amusing and the Prince wished he had met them under different circumstances. He wondered why he never saw them at Spring Banquets. They were so unlike Taeyong who was cold and curt when spoken to. Gone was the Taeyong who was kind to him in Chazhu Castle. Perhaps this Taeyong was the real one and the Prince didn't like this one.

Prince Sicheng sighed and gave up trying to sleep. It seemed impossible with every root and rock on the ground wanting to get acquainted with his back and side. Besides, his thoughts were treading on dangerous paths and he didn’t need to think about Taeyong. He threw the blanket aside and picked himself up to walk off his thoughts. He headed for the stream and strolled along it’s edge, watching the water glide smoothly over the banks.

The Prince felt melancholy wash over him at recalling his family’s loss. He had no idea how to face his father. Especially his sister-in-law, Crown Princess Mei Lin and his beautiful niece Princess Wang Shu who lost her father at such a young age because of him. He felt he had let everyone down. It was his fault that his brother was dead and the very idea of it was trying to consume him. If it wasn’t for his present circumstance of fleeing for his own life, he would have wallowed in his sorrow and grief. The Prince knew it was pointless to do so, but he couldn’t help blaming himself for his incompetence. Had he gone after his father called out to him, none of this would have happened. But then, he might also have been dead among those soldiers who were trying to protect his father as they fled.

Prince Sicheng paused at the sound of a snapping twig and tried to turn around to see who or what caused it, but then a strong arm grabbed him and felt a calloused hand with thick fingers clamp hard over his mouth and nose. Another strong arm was wrapped tightly across his chest. He felt his heart leap to his throat. He couldn’t breathe, but he tried to fight his unseen attacker by struggling from the arms restricting him and fought to pry off the hand suffocating him in vain. He could barely move from the bear-tight grasp and his only thought was the fear that this might be his last living moment.

It was when he was on the brink of losing conscious thought and stars began swimming before his darkening vision that he heard the soft gargle. Thereafter the arms that encased him slackened it’s grip. His first impulse was to inhale deeply for much needed air. Confused but relieved when he felt his attacker slump behind him. Prince Sicheng looked down to see the Chāzi scout by his feet in a crumpled heap with two daggers sticking out of his back. He suddenly felt very dizzy and swooned to almost fall into the stream as an aftereffect of lack of oxygen. Strong arms caught and steadied him so his body was supported by his ‘savior’s’ chest before it even occurred.

The Prince began shivering uncontrollably as the shock of almost dying settled in. He clutched tightly at the cape as he gratefully wrapped his arms around his protector while burying his face in the strong shoulder. Slowly, he felt the calming effect of the hand that stroked his back while huskily cooing soothing words in his ear. He looked up already knowing who it was. Their eyes met and the Prince felt himself drowning in those dark emotion-filled eyes of Taeyong as the moonlight cast shadows on his face, defining the exquisite features inches away from his. He was a beautiful man, thought the Prince while trying to breath steadily thru his parted lips. Taeyong's breath felt warm on his cheek. Prince Sicheng saw some unfamiliar reaction flicker on Taeyong’s expression while his inky pools slid lower to his lips. His heart lurched when he felt some unknown enchanting force which tried to pull them even closer together... to touch... to feel... like it was the most natural thing waiting to happen.

A loud gasp broke their trance. “Holy Maker of the heavens! Is that a s-scout? Oh fuck... we’re all dying. The soldiers must be close. Oh God... I’m too _pretty_ to die horribly.” Yukhei’s shrieking rang throughout the forest.

Taeyong stiffened and gently pulled away from the Prince who also tried to disengage himself with the feeling that it was not quick enough nor sufficiently far away from the arms previously encasing him. Prince Sicheng tried to still his heart beating erratically while he glanced at Taeyong surreptitiously. _What the hell just... almost happen?_

“Your squealing like a sniveling old lady surely would have alerted them of our position by now, Yukhei,” Taeyong grumbled as he bent over to extract his knives, wiping it clean on the motionless body and re-sheathed them simultaneously into it’s scabbards by his thighs. Taeyong then barked, “hide the body in the cave then rouse everyone. Tell Ting to help you saddle the horses. We’re leaving.”

“I’m not a sniveling old lady,” mumbled Yukhei under his breath. “Cranky old boot...”

“I can hear you,” Taeyong retorted as he walked away towards the encampment while the Prince watched the slim man from under his lashes with a million thoughts swimming in his head.

 

The six of them rode through forests and valleys from dawn until well into midday as though the devil himself were at their heels. None of them spoke, nor voice out complaints at galloping hard and stopping only once for about an hour to rest the horses and feed them while they had tea and walnut biscuits. They were aware of how dangerously close the soldiers were and it seemed to make them realize how important it was to gain more ground. Afterwards, it was back on their horses and more hard riding.

Prince Sicheng found it liberating, while he rode low on his chestnut horse, savoring the wind that brushed past his bruised mouth and cheeks. He needn’t see it thru a mirror to know that it was unbecoming. He could see it in the young Lord’s eyes as they fawned and fussed over him.

Their journey continued just before dusk when they slowed down somewhat as they came across a small village and farmland. He tried to appease them by insisting he was fine but they were adamant.

“Your Highness, we should look for fresh snow and dab some gently on the bruises,” suggested the Marquess.

“Ah, Lord Je—Sarang, there’s hardly any ‘fresh’ snow. And most of the patches still present are now disturbed and muddy. It’s already spring you know,” Lord Minhyung chided. “Garlic would be better rubbed on the prominent _redish welts_.”

“I’m just trying to help His Highness be soothed of the _awful looking_ bruises on his mouth and cheeks,” Lord Sarang retorted. “It looks painful.”

“No, it’s not really that painful, Lord Sarang,” the Prince supplied patiently, obviously amused at the two but now embarrassingly conscious of how he might look. “I’m quite alright. No need to fret.”

“I apologize, Your Highness,” Lord Minhyung said trying to look dignified on top of a galloping horse. “My cousin tends to be overzealous. Don’t you worry, the bruises won’t scar and they disappear in a few days after being brownish-bluish.”

“My Lords, His Highness doesn’t need to hear how _ugly and conspicuous_ the bruise looks on his handsome face,” Yukhei said gallantly. Almost. Ting made an effort to clear his throat audibly.

At the front of their pack, Taeyong seemed uninterested in their banter and ignored the rest of them while remaining alert for any suspicious movements.

Prince Sicheng just smiled brightly at them then immediately regretted it when he felt sharp pangs on his cheeks. He sighed and thought at least he was feeling pain instead of none at all and lying dead on the stream’s muddy bank. Again, it was due to Taeyong saving him. He seemed to be doing it pretty often since they met. The thing that bothered the Prince was that of late, he seemed to have forgotten how to thank the man. Just like last night when Taeyong comforted him. Prince Sicheng felt his heart leap recalling how he was held by Taeyong and what almost occurred. What was that? Would they really have... _kissed_? He gulped at the thought. No, perhaps he was just woozy after being smothered and the lack of air brought on wild thoughts.

“Yukhei,” Taeyong beckoned.

Prince Sicheng watched the two as they discussed quietly without letting the others overhear them. He noted how powerful Taeyong looked in his dark clothes and cape with his short swords jutting out from his cape draped over his back. He felt so drab and unappealing in the greys and browns, suddenly missing his silk and cashmere wardrobe. He snorted at the thought. He was hardly a Prince any longer, having lost his kingdom. He then thought of how his family in Valdavan was faring at the news and especially thought how hard it was for his father. And here he was, missing his fine clothes. He suddenly felt so silly.

The Prince noted his surroundings, the smaller thatched houses and shops sparsely lined the well trodden path that served as the main road. Children ran to and fro, squealing happily as their playmates tried to catch them while mothers called out to them trying to persuade them to come home. Vendors trying to sell their best wares to last minute customers and shopkeepers busy attending to patrons for their various services. It was a quaint village, which Prince Sicheng had never been to before. It gave him some peace of mind that they appear untouched by the Chāzi attacking Richū. Obviously, King Cuànwèi knew that holding the castle was all they needed to take his kingdom, not raze it to the ground. Prince Sicheng felt an ache in his chest upon remembrance of his condition. But then, he should squash all self-pity and set his mind on how to take things back to the way they were. That should be his goal now. He must be strong for his family and not be pitiful nor weak.

 

By nightfall they camped just beyond the outskirts of the village within the nearby forrest enclosing a well hidden clearing by the side of a gigantic wall of rock. The Prince could hear what he presumed was a waterfall on the other side of their camp. He supposed it must be a white water river by the roar of it.

The two retainers made the preparations to set up camp while the Prince and the young Lords rubbed down and fed the horses while they bantered lightly. Taeyong was nowhere to be seen, the Prince observed.

Prince Sicheng enjoyed the young Lords’ company and found they had a lot in common. At one point, the Prince tried to ask the Marquess about seeking help from his uncle, King Hyojin, since he knew that he had a close relationship with the King. From out of nowhere, Taeyong appeared and glared at them. He felt the two Lords ever so slightly stiffen and shared glances then clammed up somewhat. It frustrated the Prince, but he wasn’t surprised. Taeyong had been watching him like a hawk whenever he talked to the Lords. It was part of the mystery that he was determined to divulge.

By the time the moon shone high above their heads, they had a small fire roasting two quartered chickens bought from the village and water boiling which Yukhei took from the river. The two Lords were tasked to look after their meal while Ting set out to scout the area for possible Chāzi soldiers lurking about. Yukhei prepared their bedrolls while nagging at the young nobles not to burn the meat. The Prince sat with the two boys while they tended the fire.

It was then that Prince Sicheng noticed Taeyong strapping the daggers he recalled were presented as gifts for him and the Crown Princes at what seemed like ages ago and not a mere two days. Was it really a mere couple of days since Chazhu Castle was attacked? It was almost unbelievable. His short mulling was interrupted when Taeyong addressed him.

“Your Highness, may I have a moment with you?” Taeyong asked almost too politely. It was the first time they had spoken to each other directly since last evening.

“Of course,” the Prince replied and stood from the fallen log he had been sitting on to follow Taeyong just beyond some trees away from the camp heading to the river.

“I bought these from the leather artisan in the village. It’s simple but sturdy and will serve it’s purpose.”

Prince Sicheng looked at the beautiful lapis lazuli sheathed daggers strapped into the leather bindings. He didn’t know whether to be afraid of them or be grateful that he had his own weapons. Taeyong had previously used them to kill the Chāzi soldiers in the castle as he recalled. He took it as a sentiment that it was used to defend him and his family.

“I... already had them properly cleaned by the village blacksmith while waiting for the straps,” provided Taeyong. Prince Sicheng smiled at his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you, Master Taeyong. These blades are really beautiful.”

Prince Sicheng took the blades from his companion and fidgeted with the strapping, wondering if they were meant for his hips or thighs.

Taeyong held out his hand and said, “allow me, Your Highness.”

The Prince handed Taeyong the strapped daggers and the latter undid the leather straps from the prongs of the small buckles holding them in place. He stepped forward before the Prince then after a moment’s pause, Taeyong cleared his throat and asked, “m-may I?”

Prince Sicheng swallowed nervously but tried to keep his bruised face straight as he nodded, realizing that it was supposed to be strapped to his thighs. Taeyong bent down to fasten the belt around his hips securely but then stopped and yet again, cleared his throat before saying, “Your Highness will you please uh... spread your legs... a little?”

The Prince felt himself flush as he parted his legs to allow Taeyong’s hand to slip through between them and fastened the straps on both of them. He hadn’t decided whether to feel extremely shy or amused at Taeyong being absolutely careful that his fingers didn’t touch his thighs. Except for that one tiny moment when he felt the hand accidentally brush against his groin while tightening the flaps. Prince Sicheng tried not to shudder and pretended it didn’t happen. Neither of them uttered a word.

Finally when the straps were secure, Taeyong straightened himself and the Prince noticed a slight blush on his cheeks and his lips tight. He avoided the Prince’s gaze and felt it was completely understandable. He couldn’t directly look at Taeyong himself.

“T-there, it’s secure,” Taeyong rasped.

“Thank you, Master Taeyong,” Prince Sicheng replied. “I appreciate it.”

“I thought you might need some protection after what... happened,” Taeyong explained. “I noticed you had some basic knowledge on knife skills the way you held the dagger before. But just to give you a tip, next time someone tries to grab you from behind simply pull out the dagger as quick as you can and stab your attacker on the thigh. If possible at the femoral artery to debilitate them right away, or in the gut.”

“Like so?” The Prince demonstrated by pulling out the dagger and pretending to stab someone behind him. Taeyong didn’t seem to be satisfied with his movement.

“M-may I show you how, Your Highness?”

“Oh, sure,” Prince Sicheng agreed. He gulped when Taeyong placed himself behind him and put his arm around his neck to grasp his shoulder and the other arm around his chest. Similar to what the scout did.

“When your attacker immobilizes you like so,” Taeyong instructed. “Take out the dagger, if possible without alerting your opponent.” Taeyong took Sicheng’s hand in his and guided him, showing him how to unsheathe the dagger and how to stab it in one smooth strike. Prince Sicheng recalled how Taeyong did the same maneuver when he rescued him from the bandits a few days ago. But he also felt a sudden warmth spread throughout his body after being  in Taeyong’s arms once more, even if it was just for a moment.

“I... I see,” croaked Prince Sicheng as he faced Taeyong after releasing him. “Thank you for... showing me how. And... thank you for always saving my worthless hide.”

“Your Highness is never worthless. You are... of great import,” Taeyong assuaged the Prince.

“Thank you,” Prince Sicheng said earnestly and gave a dimpled smile to Taeyong. Taeyong returned the smile with a slight bow.

“You’re welcome, Your Highness. I shall... check on the... uh horses now.” Taeyong turned on his heels and walked back to the clearing faster than necessary.

Prince Sicheng watched him leave with a small smile. Happy that he was finally able to show his appreciation yet his thoughts were now even more jumbled than before. He decided to take a short walk to shake off his unsettled emotions.

The Prince strolled toward the rushing river while he mulled over his confusion. Reacting to Taeyong’s touch like that was normal, wasn't it? He never thought he would respond to that man’s touch so differently. He had such a charismatic personality that seemed to draw the Prince in. He had to be honest he had never met anyone like Taeyong. It was both amazing and frightening.

Prince Sicheng walked along the edge of the bank as he watched the waters tumbling over huge rocks and fallen logs making it bubble and froth. But he was unaware of it as he thought of Taeyong suddenly being kind to him once more. He truly was a man of extreme opposites. How can he ever cope with a complex and enigmatic man such as Lee Taeyong? But that wasn’t what bothered him the most. It was how he reacted whenever Taeyong was close to him and specifically when they touch. Prince Sicheng allowed himself a small shudder after recalling how Taeyong's hand grazed his... well _that_ part of his body. He was so disturbed by Taeyong’s effect on him. He can only wonder why. Perhaps, again, it was because he saw Taeyong as his savior and protector. A role that suited him well, thought the Prince.

The Prince decided to wash up before dinner and took off his boots and woolen socks to approach the bank where the water was more calm. He slowly made his way nearer the wildly gushing river and tried to test the water with his toes. Unfortunately he miscalculated his movement and his other foot slid over the slippery edge of the outcrop he chose to stand on. He cried out as he fell in while mildly hitting his head on the rock’s edge to plunge into the water to be washed out toward the center where the water was more violent and was consequently swept downriver by the raging current.

 


	8. Solace

 

 

Taeyong could feel the blood rushing to his face and his heart was probably bruised by now as it kept on banging against his rib cage. His hand tingled at recalling where it had accidentally brushed against. This was probably the effects of him dreaming about that damned Prince, he thought wryly. A dream that shouldn’t have been in his head in the first place. What was it with him and these Princes anyway? Taeyong snorted. It was idiotic of him to offer strapping the thing himself and he only had himself to blame for this.

“Master, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Yukhei commented on Taeyong’s pallor, sounding worried. He approached Taeyong and peered at his face then placed his hand on his master’s forehead. “You look pale. Are you alright? Hey, you’re hot to the touch.”

“Take your damned hand off my face,” Taeyong snapped.

“I’m sorry. I was just checking if you have a fe—“

“I am fine. Go... look after the boys and feed them.” Taeyong dismissed his retainer with a wave of his hand, obviously irritated. “And the Prince as well. He’s just behind me.”

“Yes Master,” Yukhei bowed deeply and then made a face at Taeyong when he turned his back on him.

“I saw that,” Taeyong called out from over his shoulder before disappearing into the dark forest.

Yukhei stiffened. “I swear that man has eyes on his back,” he mumbled as he went back to tending the fire and preparing the tea while the two Lords sniggered.

“You don’t need to tell us that. I should know from first hand experience,” Lord Sarang replied while tearing off the skin from the steaming hot roasted meat and devoured it while Lord Minhyung watched. It was the second piece he had skinned.

“Jeno, that is so rude of you,” Lord Minhyung said scowling. “You can’t eat all the skin off. Some people like to eat that too, you know.”

Lord Sarang merely grinned while savoring the morsel in his mouth. Lord Minhyung rolled his eyes at him. “You’re such a child.”

“And you’re such an old hag...”

“What do you mean by that?” Lord Minhyung uttered with a threatening voice.

“I said, you’re such an old hag,” Lord Sarang repeated as he pulled off the skin from yet another piece of skewered roasted chicken. “Besides, why would you deprive your younger cousin of the small pleasures in life?”

“You meant why do I keep tolerating your brash behavior? Really, Jeno,” Lord Minhyung said in a reprimanding tone. “Where have your manners gone? It’s no wonder your brother often scolds you. You hardly act like a gentleman.”

“He scolds me because I’m not like him. _‘Lord Jeno, you have become impetuous. I shall have His Grace send you to Haedodi to train under Master Kim if you don’t behave like the son of a Duke.’_ He’s a stuck-up prude is what I say,” Lord Jeno said, mimicking his brother. “As though I haven’t trained with long daggers all my precious life.”

“You’re being bitter,” Lord Minhyung voiced out his opinion. “You know he loves you and dotes on you. I wish I had him for a brother.”

“You can have him. I’ll give him away for free if it appeals to you.”

“Hush, did you hear that? Someone cried out,” Yukhei said as he cocked his head to one side, brows furrowed as though trying to decipher what he had just heard.

The young Lords fell silent, straining to hear the sound which Yukhei was referring to. As though on cue, Lord Minhyung flatulated.

“God, Minhyung. You’re the one who’s rude and add disgusting to that,” Lord Sarang said while pinching his nose while fanning the air.

“Sorry. I can’t help it,” Lord Minhyung had the decency to look absolutely abashed. “The walnut cookies didn’t settle in well.”

“Because you ate half of the bag earlier? It seems like a dozen of those were consumed by only yourself My Lord,” Lord Sarang supplied. “Weren’t you the one who said we should ration it?”

“I did, but they were so crunchy and tasty.”

“But where’s the scrawny kid with the bow?” Lord Sarang queried.

“You mean Ting? He’s around somewhere scouting,” replied Lord Minhyung.

“I said quiet! Wait, there it is again,” Yukhei said as he stood up whipping his head around to locate from whence the sound came from. “I think I heard my name...”

“Yukhei?” Lord Sarang asked.

“No, his name is Xuxi,” was Lord Minhyung’s sardonic response, still sore at being criticized for eating more cookies than he should have.

“That’s his horse’s name,” Lord Sarang responded wryly.

“Will you two shut up! I heard... Master?” Yukhei’s face expressed fright. “Master! I’m coming!”

Yukhei scrambled towards the voice, followed by the two young nobles.

***

Taeyong strolled the perimeter of their camp mumbling to himself. Sometimes, Yukhei forgets who he is and acts like he was his mother. He didn’t want Yukhei to find out that he indeed was feeling a little flushed. Perhaps not feverish, but his head started to throb as though a pestle was repeatedly being pounded on it. He must be tired, not to mention he had no opportunity to cleanse his wound. It was beginning to throb and he suspected it might have become infected. He shrugged deciding he should clean it before he ate something. He had no appetite and neglected any form of sustenance except a cup of tea that Yukhei had shoved at him earlier in the day. It might be the reason for his feeling somewhat ill.

Taeyong’s musings were interrupted when he heard the sound of soft footfalls behind him. He slowly pulled his blade from the scabbard on his right thigh and turned to see a Chāzi scout about to swing his sword down on his head. Taeyong dodged then twirled swiftly. Upon closing up the distance and he saw an opening, he plunged the knife to the hilt. The scout took a sharp intake of breath, or tried to, while he looked down on the blade’s grip sticking out of his torso where his heart was located. He crumpled in a motionless heap.

“Dammit, how many of you are there,” Taeyong cursed as he pulled out his dagger and wiped the blood off with the soldier’s cape. He made a note to properly clean and oil his weapons soon to prevent rusting and keep the blade’s keen edge.

Then he heard it. A soft cry followed by a splash, as though someone had fallen into the deep river. His heart leapt feeling a sense of foreboding. By instinct, he rushed to where the sound came from. He had hoped it was nothing but when he saw the boots discarded on the ground from where he stood his mouth went dry. “Prince Sicheng.”

Taeyong sprinted along the riverbanks, quickly scanning the waters rolling past him. The Prince was nowhere in sight. He ran further downriver, worried about the small waterfall less than quarter of a mile away he had seen while scouting earlier. If the Prince was washed down all the way to fall into it, he might be injured severely from the sharp rocks lying in the shallow pool below. Or worse, die.

“Your Highness!” he hollered hoping for any sign of the Prince.

Fearful for the missing Prince, he was mindless of the slippery banks while Taeyong ran worrying over him. Unexpectedly, his foot got caught, tripped on a tree root. Taeyong fell flat on his stomach jarring his body while bursting his lower lip when it hit on a small rock jutting from the muddy bank. Heedless of his own safety, he picked himself up and ran once more further down the river.

“Your Highness! Prince Sicheng!” Taeyong tried calling out to him once more, willing for a response he was desperate to hear.

About several feet away, he saw the Prince who was thankfully caught by a fallen tree trunk securely lodged among a cluster of large rocks. However, Taeyong knew the danger of him drowning, and the Prince looked unconscious despite floating face up. Water constantly splashed on his face. A frightening thought suddenly came upon him. What if the Prince had already drowned? _No! He can’t drown. No... please no._

“YUKHEI!”

Without any hesitation, Taeyong hurriedly took off his boots, cape and weapon straps for safety. He couldn't risk the blades unsheathing from the water's force and the keen edges slashing them accidentally.

“YUKHEI!” Taeyong yelled once more, hoping that his servant might hear him before he dove into the river.

Taeyong gasped as the chilled evening water hit him. His immediate thought was the Prince who may have been submerged for some time catching hypothermia. Taeyong was hoping to save him, but if he had been in the water for long, the Prince might get ill and... _Stop thinking like that idiot and focus!_

Taeyong was a strong swimmer having lived near a lake both in the Summer Palace and in Valdavan. But a placid lake was nothing compared to the forceful current he now battled. He felt himself being swept steadily by the strong current but he fought with all his might to finally reached his goal. His first instinct was to feel for a pulse. Taeyong’s heart stopped when the Prince was cold to his touch and he could feel no heartbeat. It’s just weak, he thought. Just a weakened pulse. It was difficult to detect a pulse in such a condition.

Taeyong pondered for a moment while he held the Prince around the torso to secure his head above the water, letting it rest on his shoulder. He must swim back to the riverbank but he was afraid that with only one free arm to swim with, they would end up falling over the waterfall and plunge to their deaths. Taeyong held onto the tree trunk to secure them both above the water while he looked listlessly, almost losing hope.

“MASTER! Oh no,” cried out Yukhei in desperation while he held the Prince’s boots in his arms. The two Lords looked horrified at the sight that met them as they stood on the river bank.

“Bring the rope!” Taeyong shouted and watched Yukhei run back to the camp to retrieve the rope they bring for other camping purposes.

“Hold on, My Lord!” Lord Minhyung shouted worriedly, while Lord Sarang scowled as he bit his nails in apprehension looking very pale. “We’ll get you out of there!”

“He...he’ll be fine, right Minhyung?”

Lord Minhyung patted Lord Sarang’s back and said softly, “don’t worry cousin. He’ll be safe.”

Yukhei returned and directing his instruction to the young Lords, “find a heavy branch or stone and tie it to the other end. Quick!”

Yukhei hurriedly tied the hemp rope around the nearest tree while the two young noblemen secured the rope around a relatively heavy tree branch about three feet in length they found lying on the ground nearby. Once the rope was secure, Yukhei tossed the branch toward his master. It was immediately swept away from them. Yukhei cursed as he pulled the rope back toward him and with more momentum, threw the rope again and failed once more.

“Yukhei, toss it farther with more force,” Lord Minhyung urged.

This time, Taeyong was able to get a hold of the rope before it was swept away. Taeyong struggled somewhat as he unstrung the branch and tied the rope around himself and the Prince, binding their upper bodies securely.

“Pull!” Taeyong instructed. The three standing on the banks began pulling them out of the river with Taeyong kicking his feet against the strong current. With a great deal of effort, Taeyong and the Prince were finally lying on the solid earth.

Lord Sarang sobbed with relief as he helped Taeyong untangle himself from the rope then hugged him tightly. “Are you alright? I... was afraid I’d lose you.”

Taeyong smiled and ruffled the head of the young Lord as they parted and said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Yukhei pulled up the Prince on drier ground and Taeyong knelt beside him. He tried to feel the pulse once more. There was a very faint pulse.

“Is he...” Yukhei murmured anxiously.

“Oh my God,” Lord Minhyung whispered.

“No.” Taeyong parted the Prince’s lips with his fingers and put his ear close to the Prince’s mouth. He did not feel any faint breath so Taeyong turned him over and lifted the Prince’s upper body to lean on him then bent him over while his arms were about the Prince’s waist. He pushed up the Prince’s stomach in hopes of pushing out any water trapped in his lungs. Nothing. Then he recalled a technique he saw performed on a soldier once in Valdavan so he lay the Prince back on the ground.

Taeyong pressed his palms on the Prince’s chest in short successions then bent him over once more. The Prince sputtered, coughed and spewed river water. The four men crowding around the Prince sighed in relief. Taeyong pulled the Prince onto his lap and swept back the Prince’s hair from his face.

“Your Highness?” Taeyong murmured softly, as he touched the cold cheek. “Can you hear me?”

Prince Sicheng’s eyes fluttered open, seemingly trying to focus on Taeyong then gave him a weak smile. Taeyong stiffened when the Prince held up his hand and touched Taeyong’s lips for but a short moment.

“Lip... bleeding,” Prince Sicheng whispered hoarsely.

“Are you feeling alright? Anything hurting?” Taeyong asked, ignoring the Prince’s comment.

The Prince touched the back of his head gingerly and winced. “I slipped... hit my head. S-stupid.”

“You gave us all a scare Your Highness. Why would you even go near the raging river? Don’t tell me you planned to swim in it? Look what happened to you! You could have... could have...” Taeyong was unable to finish his tirade when the Prince touched his lip once more to wipe off the fresh blood. It was a deep cut, yet Taeyong didn’t even notice. Their eyes were glued together, seemingly searching their faces for some clue or emotion unknown to them.

“Th—ank you,” Prince Sicheng said softly and shuddered. “Sa-saved me... again.”

“No need to thank me,” Taeyong said curtly, suddenly aware of six eyes intent on him.

Yukhei’s feigned coughing broke the conversation. “Master, you should both warm up by the fire after changing into dry clothes or you’ll both fall sick.”

“Your Highness, can you stand?” Taeyong asked then scowled when Prince Sicheng began quivering uncontrollably. “Yukhei! Help me...”

Yukhei was quick to respond as they lifted the Prince up to his feet. Prince Sicheng could barely stand as he trembled. Taeyong put his arm around the Prince’s waist and took the latter’s arm to settle it over his shoulders, supporting him while the Prince walked with Yukhei doing the same thing on the other side. The two Lords gathered Taeyong’s belongings.

When they reached the camp, Ting was pacing by the fire looking worried. His relief was apparent when he saw the four men. But his expression quickly changed when he noticed the Prince and Taeyong were wet and gasped. “What happened Your Highness, My Lords?”

“His Highness fell into the river,” Yukhei explained as he pulled out a bedroll and immediately placed it as close to the campfire as possible. Ting rushed to assist them.

Taeyong helped the Prince to sit on the log first to avoid the bedroll getting soaked, and wrapped him with the blanket Ting handed him, while Lord Sarang placed another on Taeyong’s shoulders.

Taeyong frowned as the Prince looked up at him with his teeth chattering while hugging himself. Taeyong knew the Prince had to get out of those wet clothes. “Your Highness, you must remove your wet clothes and change into dry ones. Yukhei! Get some dry...”

Even before Taeyong could finish his sentence, Yukhei handed him the shirt and trousers they had packed for the Prince. A loincloth was spread out on top of the folded pile. Taeyong gazed at his servant sharply.

“You know he’ll get sick if there’s something... wet... clinging onto his... uh...body, Master,” Yukhei declared blinking innocently, or tried to. “Master must help His Highness change, shouldn’t he?”

The young Lords stifled their laughter while Ting turned his back but his shoulders were shaking.

“I... c-cann... ch-cha-change m-my sel-ff,” Prince Sicheng said defiantly with his teeth knocking together. “J-just co-cov-er m-me with a b-blan-k-ket.”

“Help His Highness,” Taeyong commanded curtly and walked over to his saddlebags to take out his own change of clothes. He could feel the eyes of his amused companions on his back as he walked away from the camp and stopped once he was hidden from view. Taeyong squashed his anger and pressed his lips together then winced at the pain. How dare them make him the object of their amusement.

Taeyong sighed and began peeling off his wet clothes. He prevented himself from trembling when he started to feel the chill of the night breeze and hastened his putting on the dry clothes. After wringing the soaked clothing, Taeyong returned to the camp and found only Yukhei and the young Lords. Ting returned to keeping watch someways around the camp. He handed the wet clothes to Yukhei to spread out and dry.

Taeyong situated himself on the log opposite the now fully clothed Prince who sat swathed on a bedroll. Taeyong thanked his servant when the latter handed him his boots, cape and weapons. He slipped his feet into the socks and boots then re-strapped his weapons. Lord Sarang gave him a piece of chicken and a steaming cup of tea. He wanted to decline but the young Lord was persistent. Taeyong sighed and reluctantly ate the chicken and drank the tea. He noted the Prince shivering despite several blankets wrapped around him. Taeyong took his now empty cup and filled it with tea from the kettle by the fire after discarding the bone in it.

“Your Highness, you must drink some hot tea,” Taeyong said as he handed the cup to the Prince who shook his head vigorously.

“His Highness didn’t want anything we offered,” Yukhei supplied.

Taeyong ignored his companions’ curious and knowing looks when he sat beside Prince Sicheng and took the latter’s hand to placed the cup in it. “Drink. Now.”

The Prince gave him a quick glance of protest but reluctantly drank the tea, shivering a little while he did. Taeyong had no explanation as to why, but he placed his arms around the Prince and began rubbing the his arms and body vigorously. He felt the Prince stiffen while he did so, however he was more concerned about Prince Sicheng getting the heat back to his body to avoid getting sick.

“Next time you decide to drown yourself Your Highness, do it where it would be easier to rescue you,” Taeyong chided in a teasing manner.

“I apologize, I didn’t know what I was thinking. Although I feel much better now. Th-thank you” the Prince mumbled then glanced at Taeyong from under his lashes. Their eyes met in a lingering gaze until the Prince’s glance fell on Taeyong’s cut lip and held it there. “You’re the one who got hurt and I feel responsible for it, Master Taeyong.”

It was Taeyong’s turn to stiffen, his arms forgetting to continue the rubbing motions when Prince Sicheng gently touched his lower lip. He forgot the need for air and was suddenly aware of the Prince’s warm body so close to his with the tingling sensation of the finger lightly tracing his lip. “You have constantly been my... solace. My personal hero. Why do you think that is?”

Taeyong felt heady all of a sudden. Was it because of the Prince’s touch? He had different conflicting urges at the moment. One was the strong desire to kiss the hand that was touching him and the other was to run far away from the Prince as far as he could. Both of them were unaware of the three pairs of eyes ogling at them.

Yukhei cautiously walked over to the two gaping Lords and grabbed them by the collar while he whispered about to lead them somewhere else, “we shouldn’t be here when a different kind of eruption that is not volcanic occurs.”

“I want to watch,” Lord Sarang protested in a soft murmur and almost cried out when Lord Minhyung flicked his ear sharply. Lord Sarang mouthed ‘ow’ and glared back at his cousin.

Taeyong was suddenly aware of a movement just behind him and saw the expression on Prince Sicheng’s face change drastically. He followed the gaze of the Prince and saw Ting with his arms raised up in the air, walking slowly to the center of the camp. Taeyong disengaged from the Prince and stood up while inwardly cursing. He had been careless. Everyone on the camp froze as they waited for the cause of Ting’s fearful expression.

“Your Highness, Master, I apologize for failing you. These... men...” Ting began.

The men Ting was referring to were behind the frail boy, holding blades at his neck threateningly while the other hand was clutching his shoulder. They were ominous looking, obviously dangerous warriors with strapped their weapons much like how Taeyong himself did. But they wore masks over their mouth and nose and attired in dark greens and browns as though to mimic the forests. Taeyong felt when Prince Sicheng stood up with his wobbly legs and had to grab onto Taeyong’s arm to support himself. Taeyong’s heart sank. He knew the men.

Yukhei and the two Lords huddled closer to Taeyong and mumbling softly at each other. None of them appeared frightened. “They found us,” Lord Minhyung whispered.

“They are Jeonso, of course they would find us,” Yukhei retorted.

“Who is this Master you were referring to,” the masked man inquired threateningly at Ting. “You said he is with His Royal Highness, the Prince of Richū.”

Ting was shaking as he pointed at Taeyong and looked ready to cry. The men stepped from behind him and gasped then pulled down their masks and sheathed their weapons. Both almost fell over themselves as they knelt on bended knee and bowed before Taeyong.

Taeyong felt Prince Sicheng’s stare from the men and back at him. He closed his eyes and sighed in resignation.

The men simultaneously tapped their right forearms across their chests. One of them spoke in formal tones. “My Lord Marquess, we apologize. We had no idea it was Your Lordship whom the boy referred to as his _Master_.”

“We came looking for Your Lordship’s brother Lord Jeno and your cousin Lord Minhyung, My Lord Sarang. His Grace and Lord Yulyeong-ui sent us to search for them. We tracked them to this camp,” the other warrior explained, referring to the young nobles who groaned audibly. “His Grace and and Lord Yulyeong-ui have yet to alert His Majesty of the young Lords’ disappearance.”

“Men get up, it’s alright,” Taeyong instructed and the two warriors stood up and bowed formally once more when they were introduced. “These are Jeonso warriors, Kang Seojin and Min Jungah, Your Highness. They are two of Kaelaran’s best trackers.”

Taeyong felt Prince Sicheng’s hand fall from it’s grasp on his arm.

“Wait,” the Prince said, looking confused. “That’s the Marquess of Sarang.” Prince Sicheng pointed at Lord Jeno who winced. None of them could look at the Prince straight in the eye. Certainly not Taeyong who looked pale.

The warriors glanced up in confusion. One of them spoke, “Your Royal Highness?”

“Yes, it is I, Prince Sicheng of Richū.”

The two warriors bowed deeply and repeated the tapping of their arms. “We are honored by your presence Your Royal Highness. But Your Highness must be mistaken. The young Lord here is His Lordship’s younger brother, Lord Jeno.” Lord Jeno groaned.

The other warrior respectfully motioned his upheld palm toward Taeyong. “Your Highness, this is His Lordship, the Marquess. His Grace the Duke of Sarang’s first son.”

The Prince turned to look at Taeyong with glittering eyes and said coldly, “can you please explain everything to me, _Your Lordship, Marquess of Sarang_.”

“Oh crap,” muttered Yukhei.

Taeyong glanced at the Prince whose expression was evidently that of being upset, and frowned. He tried to explain and opened his mouth to do so but his vision blurred and he swooned until the subliminal darkness enveloped him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/12/2018
> 
> hey guys! how y'all doin' today? thank you for taking time to read this update! i was excited to post it 'coz now we know who Taeyong really is XD.
> 
> so, from here on, again with my 'to avoid confusion thing' lol sorry... we'll be calling Taeyong with his real identity which is His Lordship, the Marquess of Sarang and refer to him as the Marquess, or Lord Sarang or Your Lordship or My Lord. Jeno is just actually Lord Jeno or My Lord, being the younger brother of the Marquess. Alfjdkf i can imagine Sicheng's face when he found out Taeyong is actually the Marquess XD.
> 
> anyway... have a good one y'all and thanks so much for reading! much love!—ice <333


	9. Equanimity Is A Virtue

 

 

 

 

"Y-our M-ma-jesty," the messenger stammered, quivering in fear while he did so. "Th-the Crown Prince is d-dead. However, the K-king and third P-Prince of Richū s-still lives. Th-they h-have e-escaped."

King Cuànwèi could feel the blood rushing as the anger boiling in his body tried to break out. He balled his fists and slammed it on his thick oak desk, making the messenger jump.

"Curse you all for your incompetence! How could you let this happen?" the King shouted.

"Y-your Majesty, the were...aided by s-someone f-from K-kaelaran."

"Who?"

"Captain Xian s-said h-he is the D-duke of Sarang's son," the messenger tried to shrink even more, despite being almost a hand's span taller.

"The Marquess? That damned warrior-Lord who killed many of my men?" the King squinted at the messenger. "Is this true?"

"Y-yes, Sire."

"Is he still with the Prince?"

"We have yet t-to discover, Y-your Majesty. N-none of our s-scouts have returned."

"If none have come back with news, it means he is still protecting the Prince and he had killed them all. We have no way to know where they are now, but I can guess they are headed for the barracks or Valdavan," the King said thoughtfully. "Tell Captain Xian to send more scouts and groups of soldiers to search for them before they reach safety. Send him the war-hounds to accompany each group and make sure to prepare an ambush on the way to the barracks. I don't care how long it takes! Find me the Dong's heads!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the messenger bowed deeply and retreated.

The King sighed and leaned back on his ornate, gold filigreed wing-backed chair and set his hands on his desk while deep in thought. This would pose a serious problem. Kaelaran's King is known to favor his first nephew and he had heard that the boy was rumored to become a Crown Prince. If they were to kill the Marquess along with the Prince of Richū while his forces were scattered, he will lose the war with Kaelaran even before it began.

If however he attacked the barracks east of Chazhu Castle, he might not break down its walls that easily. That place was as strong as a fort with high stone walls, catapults at the front and sides, enormous trebuchets at it's parapets and dozens of longbow archers constantly guarding the gates that it can be called a fortress itself. It housed thousands of soldiers in it. It's rear is impenetrable as it was built along a very high stone cliff which was impossible to climb.

His army is spread too thinly at the moment, being divided among the Chazhu Castle, the search parties for the Prince and King of Richū and the ones that remained in Chazi with him. It was not an ideal situation. He must think. He needs to strategize.

"Someone bring two wenches in my bedroom!" the King hollered at the servant by the door. The servant nodded and left the room.

King Cuànwèi grimaced as he stepped away from his desk and rubbed his crotch. He needs good long sucking on his cock to organize his next moves. He must plan carefully, otherwise his head would decorate Kaelaran's Headodi Fortress gate.

***

King Yukkiko of Tsuyoi stared at the crackling wood as the tongues of red flames lapped at it within the stone fireplace. A small crumpled note in his hand, his knuckles white as he clenched his fist tightly. He had known pain and grief, but none was greater than the loss of his first born child, Princess Nozomi. First his wife, now his daughter.

At first, he blamed himself for allowing his daughter to travel alone so far away from the safety of the castle. Then after some time, he blamed the King of Chāzi for not taking necessary means to protect her. But then he realized, the King of Richū himself is a victim.

Afterwards, with some careful thought and pondering, he realized he shouldn't blame anyone else except the fiend that was King Cuànwèi. No one should be asked to take responsibility except the animal who claims to be a ruler because of treachery and violence. King Yukkiko swore to stick the devil's head on a pike and let the vultures devour his eyes and grisly face while it rotted under the sun.

"Yukkuri," the King softly called out to his retainer.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Send a message to King Hyojin of Kaelaran," the King said with a faraway gaze while caressing his sword's grip. "Tell him, I have urgent need to speak with him."

"Very well, Your Majesty."

"Prepare for my journey across the Southern Seas to Kaelaran," the King instructed. "I wish to visit the King himself after he accepts my request for an audience. Send word to my Admiral to gather our fleet and my General to ready the forces from the west barracks. Send my message to them to prepare for a long battle on Chāzi soil when I return from Kaelaran, likely in two month's time, or even less."

"Yes, Sire." The retainer bowed and retreated from the room.

The King had only one thought on his mind now. To avenge his precious daughter's death. He swore to do this even if it meant losing his own life.

***

Prince Sicheng wiped his brow with his forearm and went back to dabbing a wet cloth on the Marquess who was barely conscious, brows furrowed in discomfort. The soldiers had fashioned a small tent that was composed of large blankets hung over the rope strung across two long stakes made from branches sticking out of the ground. They tied the corners to other short stakes to create the tiny space Prince Sicheng and the Marquess were now in. It was open at both ends with the Marquess's feet sticking out but it screened them from view unless one poked his head in to take a peek. It could hardly fit two people to lie down abreast, however it served it's purpose to somehow shield Lord Sarang directly from the evening chill. _Lord Sarang._

Prince Sicheng hissed at the discovery that this man he was now looking after was the Marquess of Sarang. The man who _rejected_ him. The Prince was somehow glad that they still haven't had the opportunity to speak about Taeyong... or should he say Marquess, not disclosing his real identity. Of course he was miffed that his four companions duped him and for what reason he can't understand. The Prince wondered if it was because the Marquess was embarrassed or felt unpleasant about having had to be in direct contact with him. And if so, why did he come to Chazhu in the first place?

The Prince sighed as he dipped the cloth in the cup of warm water again and patted it over the Marquess's burning body, trying to ignore the fact that it was the first time Prince Sicheng saw him half naked. The Prince had a difficult time trying not to notice the gleaming skin of Lord Sarang's chest, the lean body punctuated with well defined sinews and taut muscles, not to mention several battle scars marring his torso. Most of all, those criss-crossing veins on his forearms made the Marquess's body even more... _manly_. Prince Sicheng licked his lips and steeled himself to be more detached as his hand held the wet cloth, gliding over the smooth expanse. The Prince let out a gasp at realizing he had been ogling at his patient's body. It was ludicrous, not only because he shouldn't do so, but also due to the fact that he can't help it. Something is terribly wrong with me, thought Prince Sicheng.

When Taeyong fainted, he almost dragged the Prince down with him if it weren't for the two Jeonso who caught him before they both tumbled down over the campfire. The Prince felt the flaming hot cheek of Lord Sarang on his skin when the latter slumped over him. It was then that he realized the Marquess was feverish. They carried him and lay him on the bedroll to take his shirt off at Prince Sicheng's instruction, mainly to wash down his fever. All of them were shocked to see a crude bandage on his left arm soiled with blood stains and yellowed with pus.

The Prince immediately sent Yukhei to the small village to seek for their healer and acquire thin linen cloths, a sanitized vial, ginger and garlic paste, coconut oil, a huge flask of rice wine and a bottle of cow's milk. The Prince took off his signet ring and gave it to Yukhei to show it to the healer so that his request won't be rejected and have the door shut on his face for such a late visit.

Prince Sicheng immediately suspected the infection could be a combination of dirt seeping into the wound and lead filings. The Prince had often helped their healers at the castle in treating their wounded soldiers from skirmishes with the Chāzi. The Chāzi had been known to lace their arrowheads and weapons with lead filings to weaken and somewhat poison their opponents. Naturally, if the soldier did not clean the wound properly, the lead in their system would result in acute poisoning, thereby debilitating them without even realizing it. He knew common symptoms of lead poisoning was lack of appetite, tingling sensations on the extremities and nausea as well as weakened bodily functions. Dangerous symptoms for a soldier who needs to stay alert and healthy. Now Lord Sarang had been a victim of such deviousness.

The Prince almost jumped when Yukhei poked his head into the makeshift tent and declared, "Your Highness, I have acquired everything you need. It seems the healer knew Your Highness personally. She claims to have worked at the castle with you in treating soldiers."

"Precisely why I asked you to show her my ring. Most of the healers in the Chazhu region know me as I have met them at one point or another," Prince Sicheng explained as he took the bundle from Yukhei along with a warmed bottle of milk. He thanked Yukhei for returning his ring and slipped it back on his left middle finger.

Prince Sicheng started when Lord Jeno stuck his head in, followed by Lord Minhyung both peeking from the opening on the other end.

"Y-your Highness, uhm... how is my brother faring?" Lord Jeno asked tentatively.

"Your Highness do you mind if we watched you dress My Lord's wound?" asked Lord Minhyung from beneath Lord Jeno's head.

The Prince took in a deep breath, as though trying to draw in more patience from the air he breathed. He was still upset with these three having to fool him, but it was hardly their fault. It was the Marquess who shoved the lies down their throats and the Prince thought to be more understanding. He hoped to be. These boys seemed to have grown on Prince Sicheng during the short time he had spent with them.

"Will the three of you go away," the Prince begged. "Try to find something more productive to do please."

"But we are also concerned for His Lordship, Your Highness," Yukhei explained. "We're worried about him."

"Didn't you say earlier that you were worried His Highness might throttle my brother..." whispered Lord Jeno. Lord Minhyung gasped and elbowed his cousin.

Yukhei had the decency to blush while he sputtered. "I... I said no such... thing!"

The Prince forgot that the tent went up to the waist only as he tried to stand up and his hair got caught on the rope, and it almost collapsed around them. "Ugh... Get out!" When he realized only their heads were inside the enclosure, the Prince spat, "I mean, get lost! Leave me be. I will not... throttle your Marquess. At least not _today_. But I will throttle all of you if you don't let me do my task in peace."

The boys scrambled from the tent snickering and the Prince sighed. He had almost forgotten that those three were hardly men. When they left him alone, he shook his head while untying the bundle from the healer and sat comfortably beside the Marquess. He began combining the garlic and ginger paste with coconut oil into the small glass vessel and shook the contents when he was satisfied with it's thickness and ratio of the salve.

Prince Sicheng pressed firmly on the sides of Lord Sarang's wound to release the pus which accumulated in it and gently wiped it off. The Marquess moaned in complaint and the Prince pacified him by stroking his hair till he quieted down. After dousing the wound with rice wine and making sure he could see no impurities left, the Prince then gingerly poured an ample amount of the salve on the wound. Prince Sicheng then carefully wrapped it with clean linen sheets and tied it off neatly. He looked at his handiwork and when he was satisfied, he covered Taeyong's body with a blanket.

The Prince gently lifted Taeyong's head to let him have a few sips of the milk which is an antidote for heavy metal poisoning. Lord Sarang groaned as he was forced to drink the thick liquid but did so at the urging of Prince Sicheng. Having drank an ample amount, the Prince set his patient back down on the bedroll and replaced the cork on the milk bottle. He wiped off any spillage from Lord Sarang's mouth, taking great care at dabbing on the cut lip, then on his chin, down to his neck. Prince Sicheng poured a tiny amount of coconut oil on his finger and applied it onto the Marquess's cut lip. He scowled at the ugly gash.

"Look at that, why weren't you careful, Taeyong?" the Prince asked softly under his breath, speaking more to himself. "You ruined your pretty mouth because of... me. But I'm grateful. Some of the ladies might not find it attractive. But I certainly do." The Prince was so engrossed at his task that he failed to notice the Marquess had opened his eyes and was staring right at him. He caught his breath when the Marquess lifted his hand and touched his own lips.

"Your lips are more beautiful. So full, pouting and seductive," the Marquess said huskily his eyes fixed on the Prince's lips. Prince Sicheng quivered while Lord Sarang let his thumb trail on his lower lip, his touch soft as a feather. He froze when the Marquess's hand slid to his cheek. "Just begging to.. be..."

It was happening once more, and some force began pulling the Prince down towards the Marquess. The trance magnified with their eyes locking on each other's lips as Prince Sicheng felt himself bend down closer.

The sneeze that came out of the Marquess was so unexpected but it was what the Prince needed when he realized what he almost did. He felt his face flush and he swallowed nervously.

"Wh-what is that smell," Lord Sarang complained, his nose wrinkling. "Garlic?!"

"Yes, and it is good for you," the Prince stiffened as he spoke. "It will help heal your wound quickly and cleanse your body of the... the bad poison."

"What poison? I hate garlic! Wash it off!" the Marquess complained. "It smells awful."

The Prince jutted his chin as he collected all the healing materials and retied them into a bundle. "Well, serves you right for not taking care yourself. And for lying to me." He sniffed. "Lead poisoning, if you must know. A simple thank you would have been better."

"You mean thank you for making me constantly smell something I strongly dislike?" the Marquess said grudgingly while pulling up the blanket to his chin. "I also... lied because I had my... own personal reasons. It is none of your business."

"Oh really? Reasons you believe are too important for your own selfish motives. You failed to inform me, the one you purposely declined to marry, because I'm not important enough nor good enough for your tastes. I'm merely a cumbersome, _soft_ Prince who does not even deserve to know your identity," the Prince said scathingly. He grabbed the bundle and crawled out of the tent. "You're just a liar and I'm disgusted by your presence."

The Prince gasped and choked on his breath for when he was halfway out of the tent he felt two strong hands grab him by the waist and turn him over to lie on the soft thick grass. The Marquess then situated himself on top of the Prince while supporting himself with on all fours on the ground, the blanket falling off his naked torso. Prince Sicheng could feel the Marquess's body heat despite them not touching and gulped.

"Then why would I repeatedly save your precious ass if you are not important enough, Your Highness?" the Marquess murmured breathily above him. The Prince shuddered. Then Lord Sarang continued, "if I thought you cumbersome, I would have left you in the castle and have the Chāzi cut your pretty head off to be sent to that mad King. If I didn't care, I wouldn't have even saved you numerous times."

"Then you should have left me there to die with my brother," the Prince said quietly, his eyes glittering with fury. "I could care less if you saved me at the river, if it meant you getting your selfish and heartless self hurt! You're a lying worthless..."

"I am not as callous and unfeeling as you portray me to be in your head, Your Highness!"

"Then why must you be so authoritative, defensive and stubborn," Prince Sicheng spat. "Why must you lie? Are you hiding something from me?"

Both of them were breathing raggedly from barely controlled emotions as they glared at one another. Yukhei cleared his throat softly. It was a few seconds after that they realized they were not alone and how they must look. Prince Sicheng dared to glance at their companions and saw everyone's head turned toward them, frozen midway at whatever they were doing. The two Jeonso gaping at them while they cleaned their weapons, Ting had his hand covering his mouth while holding a brush for the horses, the young Lords grinning from ear to ear while nudging at one another and Yukhei pressed his lips together as though embarrassed as they sat around the fire. Prince Sicheng covered his face with his hands as though trying to hide himself.

The Marquess cleared his throat and said, "please excuse us, gentlemen." Lord Sarang sat up and grabbed the Prince's arm as the latter tried to sit up. But then he gasped as the Marquess pulled him back inside the confines of the tent.

"Wait," Prince Sicheng protested. "What-"

The Marquess settled down with his back on the pallet and tugged at the Prince to lay down on his right side opposite his wounded left arm.

"Lie down," Lord Sarang commanded in a hushed whispered.

"I will not..." Prince Sicheng gaped. _Has he gone mad?_

"I said, lie down beside me. Or would you rather go out there now and face their questioning and curious glances?" Lord Sarang retorted in a whisper with raised eyebrows, still not letting go of the Prince's arm.

The Prince had no choice but to succumb to the Marquess's wish. "Why must I lie down beside you?" Prince Sicheng whispered. "I can lay outside near the fire, thank you very much."

"You just had an ordeal yourself. You need body heat, which I have...." Lord Sarang faltered. "I mean...because I said so. Will Your Highness just shut up and rest quietly."

"This is silly," The Prince said, while fidgeting beside his companion. It was a narrow space, and the Prince could feel the whole length of the Marquess. He could feel his heart racing as he lay stiffly.

"Relax will you?"

"I am relaxed," the Prince retorted hotly.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"For what now?"

"For taking care of my lying worthless hide," Lord Sarang whispered huskily.

Prince Sicheng hid his smile and after a while, succumbed to his body's wishes to be enveloped in a dreamless slumber even though it was only for a couple of hours. He was unaware that the Marquess watched him for a long while before the latter fell asleep himself.

One would think that after having 'slept together' the night before, the Marquess would somehow listen to Prince Sicheng's advises. But no. The Prince bristled, annoyed at Lord Sarang insisting that he can travel again. It was still dark, not even dawn when they broke up the camp and hid traces of their presence such as burying the embers of their campfire as it was routine. Everyone was quiet as they did their tasks. Everyone except the Prince and the Marquess.

"You're not fit to travel, Marquess," the Prince insisted. "Your body needs to recover to fight the poison properly."

"I'm fine, Your Highness," replied Lord Sarang curtly as he strapped on his weapons. "We need to cover more ground or your enemy might slice you up soon enough."

"No, you are not fine. You haven't even drank milk yet." The Prince squinted at the Marquess, arms folded across his chest.

"I... only children drink milk! Are you trying to say I'm a child?" the Marquess glared.

"I didn't say you are a child," the Prince sighed, tired of Lord Sarang's stubbornness. "It is your antidote. You have poison in your body, if you have forgotten? Lead poisoning?"

"Fine. Yukhei! Hand me the damned milk!" the Marquess said with his hand outstretched towards Yukhei.

Yukhei cowered when he approached the two high-ranking noblemen and uncorked the bottle before handing it to his master. The Marquess took the bottle of cow's milk and drank in large gulps while his eyes were fixed on the Prince.

"There," the Marquess scowled as he shoved the almost empty bottle of milk at Yukhei while licking the milk off his lips. Somehow, the Prince found the act captivating. "There, Your Highness. Happy now?"

Prince Sicheng snorted, grimacing as he watched the Marquess saunter over to Midnight and climbed on the horse. The man was incongruous, thought the Prince as he went over to Wind to heave himself up and settled on the saddle, still scowling as they rode off.

The Jeonso acted as scouts and tails. One rode far ahead and the other farther behind to make sure they had no unwanted surprise attackers flanking them. The party was mostly quiet while they galloped hard through the wooded terrain the better part of the morning. It was past luncheon when they stopped for a short while to rest the horses and eat the remainder of the walnut cookies with dried fruit. They downed it with hot tea. Surprisingly, the Marquess did not refuse the food handed to him by the Prince. After a little over an hour, they were back on their horses and galloped hard once more.

At one point, the Prince overheard Lord Jeno speaking softly with his cousin.

"Why do they always fight like an old married couple?" Lord Jeno queried.

"Are you asking me? How should I know," was Lord Minhyung's reply.

"You're older than me."

"That doesn't mean I know anything about... uhm _stuff_."

"What stuff?" asked Lord Jeno, curiosity still not satiated.

"That, my dear Lords, is called the natural order of nature. It is this all encompassing emotion called lo- "

"Yukhei!" Lord Sarang called from up front, interrupting his servant. "Come here."

Yukhei rode abreast his master, quivering. The young Lords kept silent after that but shared smiles and meaningful glances.

Prince Sicheng didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Was Yukhei about to say... _love_? It was a preposterous thought. How can two people who, like the Marquess and himself who kept rubbing each other the wrong way, be... in _love_? In hate was more like it. The Prince pressed his lips together. Admittedly he did not understand it himself. One moment they were... friendly. The next they were at each other's throats. It was silly and trying for him and the Prince had no valid explanation. Perhaps they were just completely incompatible. That must be the reason.

It was dusk when they reached a run-down abandoned farm and the Prince felt his behind was throbbing with discomfort as it kept hitting the saddle. He glared at the Marquess for allowing to stop only once the whole day. He was tired and cranky. He was also still confused, but he preferred not to dwell on dangerous and bewildering thoughts. The Prince made sure he kept his mind blank and devoid of any ideas regarding this obnoxious Marquess.

The Prince was still glaring at Lord Sarang's back when he cried out as he saw the man fall off his horse, unconscious. He was the first to dismount and run up to the fallen Marquess. Prince Sicheng knelt beside the nobleman and touched his pale face while he cradled his head. The Marquess was scalding to the touch. The two were oblivious to the three young boys who dismounted an watching them and exchanging glances.

"My Lord," Prince Sicheng said softly while gently patting the Marquess's cheek. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

The Marquess's eyes fluttered open and the inky pools stared at him. "I... sorry, I guess I... fainted."

"Yes, you did. Again, your fever returned," the Prince said with a sigh. "You worry me, do you know that, Marquess?"

Lord Sarang gave him a small smile. "I like that... worrying Your Highness."

The Prince felt his heart do a little somersault but then cursed as the Marquess fell unconscious once more. Prince Sicheng ordered the men to stop and make camp inside the small farmhouse. Upon inspection, the two bedroom house was still safe enough for them not to be worried about the roof crashing down on them and found it to be relatively clean, despite it's abandonment. It had sturdy narrow beds in both rooms and most essential furniture like a dining table with chairs and a working hearth as well. The Prince selected the room for the Marquess with a larger window and the bed pushed against the wall, with a small nightstand by it's headboard.

Not long after, they had the fire going, rabbit stew boiling and tea brewing. Apparently the Jeonso are good at hunting as well, finding several rabbits for their supper. Yukhei added vegetables that had grown wild from the vegetable patch just adjacent to the house. The Prince felt comfortable at the domesticity and for the first time in several days he felt...almost peaceful.

While everyone else was doing their tasks, the Prince busied himself looking after the Marquess. He took off his cape and coat and set to do his work. The Marquess was lying on the wooden bed with a bedroll spread over it while the Prince sat beside him. He unstrapped the Marquess's weapons, took off his boots, coat and shirt and began wiping his body to bring the fever down. He was feeling tired himself but he ignored it, intent on caring for the Marquess so he can feel better. Prince Sicheng dutifully ignored the Marquess's lithe upper body while he re-dressed his wound.

Prince Sicheng fed the Marquess, while he took spoonfuls alternately for himself. After their meal, the Prince then crushed some garlic and added it to the tea which he let the Marquess sip.

The Marquess sputtered at the taste and smell of raw garlic while the Prince smiled devilishly.

"Call that your punishment, Marquess," the Prince quipped as he set the tin cup on the whitewashed nightstand, beside the lit candle stuck on a holder the young Lords found on top of the hearth. Prince Sicheng returned to wiping down the Marquess. "I suppose you're feeling better?"

The Prince gasped when the Marquess grabbed his wrist and pulled him with his good arm. Prince Sicheng fell over on top of the Marquess, his hands on the latter's firm chest. The Prince tried to get up, but the Marquess's arm locked around his neck and shoulders, immobilizing him.

"What are you doing?" the Prince gaped as he stared at the Marquess whose face was chiseled in stone. Almost. His soft eyes belied his hard expression.

"Take your boots and weapons off and lie down on the bed."

"What? Why?"

"Just do as I say," the Marquess said in a hoarse voice. "Please."

"H-how will I do that when you're about to choke me," Prince Sicheng mumbled.

Lord Sarang released his death-grip but held onto the Prince's wrist. Prince Sicheng gave him a condescending look as he plunked the washcloth into the small basin sitting on the chair by the bed and took his boots off. After some difficulty, his weapons came off as well and set them beside the empty bowls.

Then with great reluctance the Prince lay back stiffly beside the Marquess who scooted over to give him more space. The Prince could feel his heart hammering against his chest. What was up with the Marquess? This was the second time Lord Sarang dragged him to lie down beside him. It was disconcerting, to say the very least. The Prince could feel Lord Sarang's full length and his arm was brushing against the man beside him and his body felt warm.

After a moment, the Prince asked softly, "why didn't you tell me you who you really were?"

The Prince heard his bed-mate sigh deeply. Then the Marquess replied simply, "I... was embarrassed and ashamed."

"Embarrassed? Why?" the Prince asked as he turned to his side to gaze at the Marquess and almost regretted it. He was now facing the Marquess up close and he could feel their breaths mingle. "Because you declined my father's proposal?"

"Partly, yes," Lord Sarang answered. "Not because of you in particular, Your Highness. I have... had some aversion to... the thought of marrying... a Prince."

Prince Sicheng frowned, studying the placid expression on Lord Sarang's face. "You had... a bad experience?"

"You could say that, Your Highness. Yes."

"I see," Prince Sicheng gave the Marquess a small dimpled smile. "Thank you for your candor."

The Marquess sat up to pull the blanket over them and closed his eyes. "Sleep, Your Highness."

"You may call me Sicheng, Marquess."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

The Prince smiled and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep but not before he slipped his hand into the Marquess's. The Marquess squeezed his hand and entwined his fingers with those of the Prince's. For the first time since leaving Chazhu Castle, the Prince fell peacefully, soundly asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/7/2017  
> hey guys! thank you for reading this update. it actually centers more on the development of taewin's relationship ladjflkds and hopefully you enjoyed this as much as i wrote it....like waahhh, they are so feisty, and yet gentle... i'm crying. i love them and i miss taewin so much :,((
> 
> y'all have a wonderful day! <333


	10. Definitive Inclinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: 19/12/2016  
> hey guys! How’s your day going? i’m sooo hyped and happy to update tpbm again hehe. i hope you enjoy reading this. it was kinda exciting for me to write the scenes here ljfkasjd... ok i better stop lest i foil the story.... XD
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading, and if you’ve time, i’d love to hear from you. Y’all gave a good one! <333 ]

 

 

 

 

 

 

The weather was as miserable as the Marquess of Sarang was. It suited his black mood perfectly. He was mounted on Midnight sitting stiffly, drenched by the heavy downpour falling from the skies with the rainwater soaking thru his heavy cloak. He had become soft and vulnerable thereby loathing himself for it.

Lord Sarang had woken up that morning when they stayed at the small farmhouse to find himself and the Prince cuddling. He was petrified to find the Prince’s leg thrown over his groin and it wasn’t a very good idea early in the morning. The Marquess had to wriggle out from the entanglement of limbs with the speed of a sloth to avoid awaking the Prince and put them in an even more awkward position. He recalled the way Prince Sicheng held his hand and he had no inhibitions with sharing physical connections to a certain degree. The Marquess himself admittedly initiated it and he had no plausible reason as to why he acted the way he did, or obviously denied it in his head. Once more, his conflicting emotions led him to appear callous, cold and cranky toward the Prince for the rest of the day. He knew the Prince hated him for it but couldn’t help himself.

It came as a surprise that the Marquess inexplicably found comfort and security when the Prince was close to him. As though he drew strength from the man’s very essence and the Marquess found this illogical. He can only attribute it to some sort of kinship or bond from being thrown together by fortuitous events.

Lord Sarang found the Prince to be an amusing companion and also the source of his throbbing headaches. It would seem there was a debatable presence of a physical attraction between them, or at least admittedly on his part. By now, he was sure of it but hated the very idea.

The Marquess found the Prince to be an intriguing contrast from all the princes he had encountered before. Prince Sicheng was kind and thoughtful, obviously a caring person who was eager to help anyone despite him being Royalty. It didn’t seem to bother him starting the camp fire with flint and kindling, and he almost always helped to rub down and feed the horses. He was neither pompous nor petty. At the very least not always, with the exception of Prince Sicheng’s persistently stubborn nature. Everything should have been harmonious, but no matter how much the Marquess wanted for them to be amiable, certain inexplicable emotions often surfaced from within him to spark and consequently combust, resulting to a constant friction between them.

Then there was the matter of his traumatic fear of letting his emotions resurface. He had already promised himself years ago not to succumb to any further untoward inclinations for another being and yet, he found himself being sucked into a whirlpool of unwanted sentiments. All because of His Royal Highness, Prince Sicheng of Richū.

The Marquess felt a sharp stab in his chest in remembrance of the pain the past wrought him. It was a scar that never healed, festering within him for years. He had barely recovered from such betrayal and the wretched affair, but then this Prince came along to have him develop a predilection he certainly was not prepared for. The Marquess knew he cannot allow such fondness to grow for his own protection. He should curb any and all desires to keep the Prince near him. He let his emotions get away from him the past couple of days but it should end there. Especially when he was supposed to be alert like he should be at the very moment. Danger was imminent.

Their party had traveled from dawn, leaving the comfort of the farmhouse to continue their journey the whole morning until they stopped for a quick lunch. Then it was off to galloping once more. Their passage was mostly uneventful except for the somewhat annoying banter of his companions which he chose to exclude himself, whenever their pace slowed down for a safer trek on dangerous trails. As usual, the two Joenso were scouts and Ting barely said a word unless he was spoken to. The Marquess ignored them at most and stayed at the head of their party, leading them towards their foreseen destination. Even when they camped by a secluded gorge that night, he had avoided almost everyone and mostly stayed outside the encampment. His only spoken words were restricted to the Jeonso scouts whenever they would report back to him, or to Yukhei when he needed to give out an order. It was somewhat foolish and he was aware of it. He could feel the Prince’s stare boring at his back every time the came across one another.

Their routine of breaking camp at dawn to ride out hard once more through the most part of the day had resumed. The Marquess was almost complacent but at the back of his mind he knew the danger that lay ahead. He sensed the oncoming peril when the rain began to fall that gloomy mid-morning. And so it indeed had come, as he sat on Midnight staring grimly down on the vast grassland at the not so far horizon where the source of his worry was.

"So, Your Lordship believes we must fight this handful of Chāzi even if they are still over a furlong away?" Seojin, the older Jeonso to the Marquess's left inquired.

"Your Lordship, we can easily defeat them. I'm just anxious that His Highness might come to harm if we fight and the Chāzi would come within his reach and we fail to notice it," said Jungui worriedly to the Marquess's right.

They were on top of the grassy knoll sitting dourly on their horses thoroughly soaked but like the Marquess, they didn't seem to mind the bothersome weather. They were all soldiers. Warriors who had endured even worse conditions and still fought exceedingly well. With the three of them and Yukhei, they could easily run them through with their blades assisted by Ting with his longbow, thought the Marquess. However, as he peered at the horde of roughly fifty Chāzi soldiers steadily approaching, he knew that about a dozen of them were archers on horseback. Not only that, they had several war-hounds ahead of the Chāzi who were able to sniff humans a hundred spans away. The Marquess suspects they had an idea where they were but luckily their position was masked by the heavy torrential downpour, thereby being unable to pinpoint their exact location.

The audible clearing of the throat from behind them alerted the three men as they discussed and turned their heads to see Ting squirming uneasily on his horse under the shrewd gazes.

“You have something to say, Ting?” the Marquess asked with his eyebrows raised under the shadow of his soaked hood.

“Your Lordship, I apologize for interrupting,” Ting began in a soft voice and appearing more nervous once they had his attention. “But... I saw a short ravine ahead where we could lay in wait to ambush the Chāzi. Masters Seojin and Jungui have bows such as myself. We can kill most of the archers from above while they pass thru. We can distract the hounds with the rabbit meat we had snared last night. Then the rest of the foot soldiers would be easier to pick out in melee while I continue to shoot arrows from above.”

The three men stared at Ting who spoke out his plan of attack in a rushed series of words while they veered their horses to face him. Obviously surprised that a young boy, a peasant, could offer a manner of ambushing without any experience in war. The boy cringed at the warriors’ scrutiny.

“S-sorry Your Lordship, I just... I wondered... maybe...” Ting sputtered, face as red as a cherry.

“Your idea might work, Ting,” the Marquess commended with a twitch of his lips. “You’re always a welcome surprise, young man. I didn’t even think I have thanked you properly. We’ll do as you have planned.”

Ting beamed, flushing at being praised by nobility. “Th-thank you, My Lord Marquess. I’m pleased to be of service to Your Lordship,” Ting gushed and bowed awkwardly on top of Lightning.

The Marquess could feel the Prince’s eyes on him, tight-lipped and quietly watching. Lord Sarang would give an arm to know what he was thinking. He hadn’t spoken to the Prince directly for over a day.

“Brother, Minhyung and I can help fight. You know how good we are with blades,” Lord Jeno spoke out, his face expressing animation.

“That’s right My Lord,” Lord Minhyung interjected.

“No.” Lord Sarang’s firm disapproval did not discourage the young Lords.

“My Lord, you need our help,” Lord Jeno persisted.

“I can only allow you to fight from afar if you had bows, which you don’t have,” the Marquess said sharply with an eyebrows raised.

“But we have our slings,” Lord Minhyung said with a grin, indicating the leather sling he pulled out from his belt. “We brought plenty of bullets we... ‘borrowed’ from the smithy.”

“We can use our slings to hurl bullets from above too,” Lord Jeno pitched in excitedly. “You know, to distract the enemies. Please brother, let us help.”

“Yes My Lord! We’ll climb the trees where it’s safe,” Lord Minhyung added, still grinning.

“Will being high up in the trees save you from arrows?” the Marquess said in a menacing tone. He was obviously losing his almost nonexistent patience. “If an arrow pierces you what then?”

“We’ll be well hidden,” urged Lord Jeno in a pleading tone, his eyes wider than usual.

“Please, My Lord,” Lord Minhyung begged. “You need our help.”

The Marquess paused for a moment and studied his kin who were both looking expectantly. Then with a firm and decisive tone he finally said, “no.”

The groans of the two younger Lords were loud enough to scare off the birds nesting on a tree just above them. The Marquess squinted at them before veering his horse toward the ravine Ting mentioned.

“Let us head to that place. Use those rabbits we snared last night to bait those damned dogs and lead them into the middle of that ravine. We need to prepare for an oncoming and _dangerous_ fight,” Lord Sarang declared, stressing on the word dangerous for the benefit of the two persistent Lords. They were still pleading, making failed attempts at convincing the Marquess but he ignored them as he led Midnight to a trot. He could feel the Prince’s eyes on him but he didn’t spare him a glance.

***

The young Lieutenant Liu rode at the back of his company and peered up at the knoll ahead from a far distance, noting movements among the trees. He could vaguely see figures of a band of horseback riders but he wasn’t sure these were the men Captain Xian had described. Moreover, there were only three men on the sketches. These could only be some bandits or travelers trying to find refuge from the rain. He sighed. Perhaps he was just getting anxious, chasing the white rabbit for days under duress.

The Lieutenant didn’t agree with the aimless hunting and thought it was a waste of his precious time. What he believed was to go straight to the barracks to the east where the King and Prince of Richū most likely was or will be, and bring the whole thing down till it crumbled to the ground. He preferred a straightforward attack than unfruitful gallivanting. He grimaced at the war-hounds. He noted they were getting fretful for something they had been smelling. It could possibly just be dead squirrels or rabbits but they were sniffing their way towards a specific direction.

Their troop kept onward, horses trotting and footmen running through the grassy mush as they followed the hound over the plains. Then, the Lieutenants attention fell on the lone scout on horseback galloping towards them, likely to give a report on what lay ahead.

“Lieutenant, there are three men resting by the gully up ahead, looking like they are about to set camp. One of them took off his cloak and he fits the description of the Warrior-Lord Captain Xian mentioned, however I didn’t see any horses with them,” the rushing scout gushed as he wiped off the rain from his face. “Mayhaps they tied the animals somewhere close by, away from view. I couldn’t get any closer lest I alert them with my presence.”

“You did well enough, soldier. It might be the men we are looking for,” Lieutenant Liu said, feeling a little hopeful. The men were likely what the hounds were sniffing. Perhaps luck has finally swung their way. If these were indeed the Prince and the Kaelaran Lord with his companion, he certainly will go back to Chazhu castle with the Prince’s head. The thirty-eight footmen, a dozen archers on horseback and three war-hounds with him was definitely no match for those three men, Warrior-Lord or not, thought the Lieutenant. Then he barked his orders aloud. “Men, stay alert! Prepare for an attack. Archers, nock your arrows once we reach the large gully ahead but stay behind the line. Pikes, rush forward and hold the front line and the melee behind them. That Kaelaran nobleman is the spawn of the devil himself and he can kill ten of you with one strike. Beware! Make sure you don’t give him an opening! We ride!”

When the troop reached the mouth of the densely tree-lined gully, they slowed down to a halt at the motion of the Lieutenant. The Chāzi leader peered through the thick downpour at the three men who now stood at the other end of the rather straight ravine. They were standing abreast, with the nobleman in the center. As he commanded, the pikemen rushed forward, followed by the melee soldiers, in a tight pack. Something didn’t sit well with the Lieutenant and felt a wrongness as he stared at the Kaelaran Lord. The nobleman pulled out his short swords from behind and twirled them in his hands. He had a devilish smirk on his lips, taunting them to come forward. At the same time, the two cloaked men beside the nobleman pulled out their bows from underneath their cloaks and nocked their arrows.

"It's a trap..." the Lieutenant whispered. He tried to warn his men by shouting at the top of his voice, “halt! It’s an ambush!” Too late, for all hell broke loose.

Lieutenant Liu stared in utter frustration as everything happened so fast. The charging hounds were the first to fall, arrows sticking out of each one. At the back of the lines, one by one his archers, groaned and grunted as they clutched their faces with burst brows or eyelids or lips, all of which were already bleeding. The others fell on their horses, dying from an arrow even before they hit the ground. The archers kept falling until none were left, having been unable to identify the location of their attackers or failed to aim at the constantly moving cloaked archers before them and from above. At the front, his pikemen tripped over the rope that suddenly sprung from the ground as they ran forward, tumbling over one another, injuring some of their own companions. It was a complete disaster. His only hope now lay on his swordsmen and other melee warriors.

The Lieutenant sat on his horse shouting his commands for the rest of the soldiers to charge. The larger number of swordsmen still ran forward over the slain men. He watched in awe as the two men who discarded their bows for swords led by the Kaelaran noble, sprinted forward and began waving the swords they held in both hands, slashing and striking at his men. They were assisted by the appearance of another tall yet very young warrior who held a sword in one hand, and a dagger in the other. He too fought well, if not at par with the three seasoned warriors. It was as if the wind itself enveloped and lifted them, unbothered by the heavy downpour while they swung their swords at the oncoming soldiers with steady hands and graceful but powerful movements. The three older men spun to create arches of deadly strikes, dodged and lunged to skillfully evade the attacks as though in a synchronized dance while his soldiers were cut down. It was enthralling to watch despite his own men falling by the handfuls. The man gained his respect and sighed as the Lieutenant dismounted, knowing his own death was close. It was not for naught, he thought, for he would fight honorably with a worthy opponent. He was no coward. He smiled, knowing he shall soon reunite with his wife and child in the afterlife as he ran forward to meet his end head on, raising his sword with a cry to join the fray, his eyes set on the Warrior-Lord.

***

The Marquess faced sparring with two brilliant swordsmen at the same time, trying to toy with him while he parried and dodged from their attacks coming from both sides. It was amusing to Lord Sarang that once in a while, they would be hit by his kin’s bullets and the two Chāzi would groan but ignore it to continue fighting with the Jeonso and himself. The Marquess used those sling’s shots as opportunities to strike. He knew it was his brother who hit the taller soldier he was engaged with in the buttocks. The Chāzi soldier howled as he clutched his behind with his shield arm and continued to block Lord Sarang’s attacks, face contorted with anger.

As the Chāzi soldiers dwindled in number, the Marquess pushed forward and tried to fight through the throng toward the flanks. He used his techniques that ensured multiple soldiers were slain right away. The Jeonso and Yukhei fought those who broke thru their Lord’s onslaught.

Then the Marquess was fighting with three men who seemed as though they were masters of the sword. They blocked and parried as the Marquess fought for the opening he was waiting for to perform a critical strike. When the other soldier found an opportunity, he bashed Lord Sarang with his shield while the nobleman blocked the attacks of two other soldiers. The Marquess, momentarily dazed with the ringing in his head was almost hit by another shield. Luckily, Yukhei rushed to aid him by picking out one of his opponents and engaged him with a block and parry. It gave time for the Lord Sarang to recover somewhat and dodged the oncoming attacks.

The Marquess and the two Jeonso were all deeply engrossed with their final adversaries that they failed to notice the tall young Chāzi warrior who looked to be of a higher rank, heading for Lord Sarang’s back.

It was then that the Marquess who had just defeated his opponents, heard the shouts of warning from his kin from above in the trees, as he turned and almost got struck down by the seemingly crazed soldier, grinning from ear to ear. But then, his smirk was wiped off and was replaced with wonder. The Marquess frowned at the man who gasped and gargled for air while a streak of blood began trickling down the corner of his mouth. A dagger with a lapis lazuli grip stuck out from the side of his throat which had began spurting blood on the hand that firmly held it. The soldier who was choking on his own blood was good as dead when he hit the ground quivering and thrashing while he held his neck. Emerging from behind him was the Prince who still held the dagger he had pulled out in his blood stained hand, staring at it. Prince Sicheng was trembling all over and his face pallid as he stared at his shaking hand soaked in blood that began to slowly disappear, washed away by the now thinning rain .

“Your Highness!” the Marquess uttered, gaping at the Prince who apparently had saved his life. Luckily, it was the last of the Chāzi soldiers. The Prince met his eyes and the Marquess noted the pallor of his face, his shivering body and the trembling hand that still held the dagger.

The Marquess dropped his bloodied wakizashis and approached the Prince to grab him by the shoulders when he wobbled and almost tumbled over. The Marquess slowly pried out the dagger from the Prince’s frozen grip and discarded it on the ground.

“I... I took... someone’s life...” the Prince murmured with a hoarse voice, as though speaking thru a constricted throat. “I... killed... a man...”

The Marquess knew how it felt, to take away a life for the first time. It was a horrid experience that only a callous and emotionless person would ignore. Lord Sarang knew how guilt could plague your mind and wrap you in desolation, despite the knowledge that it’s purpose was only to save another life. No one really got used to killing, but one learns to numb one’s self from the feeling of blame and accountability for it, especially it if it was to defend or protect. The Marquess took the quivering Prince into his arms and held him tightly. The Prince grabbed onto the Marquess’s back, clinging as though for his dear life while burying his head into the Marquess’s shoulder. The Marquess felt as though his heart was wrenched from his chest when the Prince’s body began shaking as he sobbed quietly. He soothed the man in his arms by rubbing his back and cooing soft words into the Prince’s ear.

The Marquess was unaware of their companions who began shuffling around them quietly, retrieving re-usable bullets and arrows and Yukhei picking up the discarded blades of his master and the Prince. The Jeonso also made sure there were no survivors.

“Hush, stop crying Your Highness,” the Marquess said gently while he continued to cuddle the Prince. “You saved my life, and that makes taking one who wanted to take mine well worth it’s while. Who would you scold and shout at if I had died then? Hmm?”

The Marquess heard the soft snort from the Prince and it made him smile. The Marquess disentangled himself from the Prince and cupped the latter’s chin. He gazed at the rain and tear-streaked face staring back at him while Lord Sarang caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. “Thank you, Your Highness. You saved my worthless ass this time.”

Lord Sarang blinked when he felt the Prince’s finger gingerly touch his partly healed cut on the lower lip. Their eyes glued on the other’s and then the Marquess felt his heart leap to his throat when he heard what the Prince said.

“I... did feel guilt for a moment, Marquess. B-but... I cried not because of the man I killed but... be-cause I was so afraid of... of losing you,” Prince Sicheng murmured in a soft whisper that was only meant for the Marquess. “Even if... you’re always upset with me and... you hate me.”

The Marquess took in a ragged breath while he studied the Prince. He looked so vulnerable with those sad glistening eyes and it touched the Marquess’s ice enveloped heart. He could never hate this man, he thought. So what did he really feel?

“I would never hate you, Your Highness. I just have a lot on my mind lately, and I apologize if had made you feel that way,” said Lord Sarang pacified the Prince with a wry grin. Then he teased the Prince by saying, “I promise to never make you think I am upset with you, even if I really were indeed upset. Will that make you happy, Your Highness?”

“I guess, hate is such a strong word. Dislike is probably more appropriate,” murmured the Prince shyly. He seemed to be feeling a little better to have thought of the little quip.

“Neither do I dislike you,” the Marquess said softly, belying his placid expression.

“Then... do you _like_ me?” the Prince asked as he stared into the Marquess’s eyes and gave a dimpled smile.

“I...” The Marquess marveled at how entranced he was at the smile that was so freely given to him, and he couldn’t help but stare at those luscious red lips. The vision of kissing those full lips in his dream that first night they had camped came flooding back into his confused mind. He swallowed nervously as he fought hard to succumb to the urge to make the vision a reality.

Then as though awakening from a dream, he sensed the hushed whispers behind them and the familiar nicker of Midnight. Lord Sarang extracted himself from the Prince and said in a voice he tried to intonate but came out as strained. “It is perhaps best to... move on. There may be more soldiers about. Let us try to gather more ground, Your Highness.”

“Ye-yes, of course you’re right,” the Prince said as if shaken out of a trance himself. The Marquess noted the light blush on his cheeks and it made the Prince seem... _prettier_.

The Marquess felt himself flush at the thought and gave Prince Sicheng a quick bow. He then turned around to discover their six companions all watching them quietly with various expressions on their faces while they stood beside their horses, patiently waiting. He pressed his lips together and sauntered over to them.

“Are you feeling feverish again, Your Lordship,” Yukhei asked with a saccharine voice, feigning worry. He peered at his master’s face, eyes blinking innocently as he handed the weapons to his master. “You look a little flushed.”

The Marquess gritted his teeth at the insinuation of his servant and scowled, ignoring the quip and the smirks of his brother and cousin. He tried to act as though nothing strange had occurred while he noted the blades had been wiped clean. He took those from his servant and re-sheathed them into the scabbards strapped on his back with more force than necessary. The Marquess also took the Prince’s dagger from his servant. Then he barked, “well, what are you all waiting for? Ride!”

They all scampered onto their horses except for Yukhei who held the reins of Midnight, Xuxi and Wind as well. The Marquess snatched the reins of Midnight and rode the impatient horse and handed the Prince’s dagger to him when noted the Prince had followed him with his head bowed down as he thanked the Marquess. He sheathed the dagger and rode Wind, but the Marquess could see the deep red blush on his cheeks. _Damn Yukhei for shaming the Prince. And me._

The Marquess clucked his tongue and nudged Midnight to a gallop, riding ahead of his party. He ignored the jumbled thoughts in his head, especially the strong desire he had earlier to kiss the Prince. His black mood had returned, despite the clearer skies. _Stupid dream is to blame._

***

“Captain, one of the scouts returned from the east,” a soldier reported after he entered the large tent close to the ruins of the old fortified Richū barracks that had fallen under siege by the Chāzi many years ago.

“Send him in,” was the clipped response of Captain Xian from behind his makeshift desk. He wasn’t in the brightest mood, having lost almost all of his scouts and few had returned empty-handed except for the news that they had found yet another slain scout. The only good thing that could be gleaned from this is to pinpoint where the Prince of Richū was headed from the trail of dead bodies.

Moments later, the scout entered the tent looking worse for wear and wearing a grim expression. He clicked his heels together and bowed. “Captain.”

“Report,” urged the Captain, impatient to hear the news.

“Captain, I found the troop of Lieutenant Liu west of our encampment about two days from the barracks by the east mines. They were all slain, including the hounds,” the scout said grimly. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Thank you soldier, you did well. You are excused.”

The scout bowed and left the tent and Captain Xian let out an expletive while he stood from his desk. He cursed himself letting that young Lieutenant lead the soldiers blindly. It was a waste of his good men. That damned Marquess was even more fierce and deadlier than he had foreseen. He leaned on his desk using his whitened knuckles, as though in deep thought. Then he instructed the soldier waiting by the entrance. “Send in Lieutenant Dao. Tell him to come to me regarding the ambush we planned. Make sure there are still sentries in the areas surrounding the barracks to alert us once the Prince is close enough to execute our plan.”

“Yes Sir,” responded the soldier before bowing out of the tent.

Captain Xian sighed and sat back down on the rickety chair. He kept losing men over that Marquess and he was no longer amused. He must have both the Prince’s and Marquess's head before they reach the barracks. He promised himself, this time he won’t let them fail.

***

The Marquess wiped down the blades he had cleaned by sanitizing it with the rice wine and making sure he removed all of the dried blood. He then wiped them with a dry cloth before applying coconut oil to prevent rusting. He was sitting down on a fallen tree trunk away from the camp several feet away from a small lake they had camped by. It looked secluded enough and they needed a rest after riding hard until the moon was shining softly above their heads. He had pushed their party forward, afraid that more soldiers would catch up on them. It was easy to glean their horse tracks because of the rain softening the mud, so the Marquess chose to travel over a shallow stream that consequently lead to the nearby lake where they were now camped.

The Marquess didn’t know how to react to the Prince after what had happened earlier. He knew somehow the words they had spoken to each other had a ring of truth in it, despite saying it in a joking manner. He had come to terms that he was attracted physically to Prince Sicheng, but he was not prepared to face the man with such knowledge. Besides, what would become of such attraction, if indeed it was mutual? It was a pointless situation if they would have indulged in it knowing they would soon part ways. Moreover, he had no way of knowing for sure if the Prince indeed was feeling the same kind of emotions he had felt. It’s only physical, raw sexual attraction and nothing more, thought the Marquess. He was just human, and being so, he had sexual needs too. One that this time, he cannot allow, he reminded himself and snorted as he put away his blades.

The Marquess motioned to get up to see to a cup of tea he suddenly craved but then he noticed the Prince about a few dozen feet from him, walking toward the lakeshore and started undressing. He was frozen on the spot as he sat on the log, _unintentionally_ watching the Prince reveal a lithe yet muscular body. The Marquess gulped as he gazed hotly at the naked body with the pale moonlight shining on the white smooth skin, with only the tiny loincloth covering his privates. Lord Sarang subconsciously bit on his lower lip when his eyes strayed on the firm round buttocks as the Prince entered the lake. He squashed the thought that invaded his now dazed mind of letting his hands glide over the taut skin of the silky mounds. And his tongue...

The Marquess choked on his own breath and stood up uncomfortably while he felt a sudden unwanted growth in his loins. He gathered his things and grumbled at his own lascivious thoughts. This was certainly getting way out of hand, an unnecessary torture of his usually sane brain. He stomped off toward the camp and tried to think about butterflies and puppies, muttering under his breath about lewdness and carnal sins.

Lord Sarang found the camp empty, wondering where everyone went. He knew the Jeonso and Ting were by now, scouting around the perimeter, making sure they were safe. He frowned but then he remembered that Yukhei and the two young Lords were assigned to set up rabbit snares for the night. He stashed away his cleaning materials, pushing thoughts on the Prince aside. He sighed and went over to the camp fire to pour himself a hot cup of tea before settling down on a large rock by a tree. He sipped the black liquid, savoring it’s mildly bitter and minty taste. It was the tea his mother mixes for him, combining the tea leaves with mint and dried apples.

It was the flailing and frightened gasping that alerted the Marquess’s attention. He recognized the voice and it was coming from the lake past their camp. The Marquess cocked his head and immediately set down his cup to rush toward the lake when he heard the horrified shrieks. What he saw made his skin crawl, and it wasn’t in a good way.

The Prince was cursing and shrieking at what appeared to be about over a dozen leeches riddled over his whole body all trying to feed themselves while wriggling slowly. Prince Sicheng was quivering more at the disgusting creatures than the chill of the new spring breeze.

The Marquess approached the Prince and steadied him. The Prince started when he realized Lord Sarang held his shoulders to calm him down. He stared wide-eyed at the Marquess.

“Your Highness, it’s alright,” said the Marquess soothingly, trying to keep his face straight and indifferent. More so because he was so close to the Prince’s nakedness this time than the leeches attached to the skin. “I will take them off, so don’t worry.”

“I... it’s s-so revolting....” the Prince shuddered. “Too... many...”

“Don’t worry Your Highness,” Lord Sarang said tenderly while he took out his knife from his hip. “Please try not to move. I don’t want to mar your smoo—... uhm your body.”

“P-please, hurry.”

The Marquess looked at the Prince and they caught each other’s eyes. He swallowed before saying, “Your Highness, I may have to touch your... uhm skin. I apologize.”

The Prince nodded while he blinked and smiled sheepishly. The Marquess smiled back, then recalling what he had imagined earlier, blushing at the thought. He tore his eyes off the Prince and set to work.

The Marquess swallowed as he began removing the leeches from the pale skin by very carefully sliding the keen edge between the leech’s mouth and the Prince’s skin. He forcibly pushed aside the tempting thoughts as he removed the first one that had attached to the shoulder. Then, onto the chest and the expanse of the Prince's back, ignoring the fact that the tips of his fingers were touching the moist skin that was cool to his touch. The Marquess wiped off the sweat that was beginning to accumulate over his brows with his forearm.

With both their breathing labored, the Prince stood patiently while the Marquess removed the last of those attached to his torso. Now was the awkward part. There were several leeches that had latched onto the area of the groin and the buttocks. The Marquess swallowed nervously while he bent down while his fingers grazed the indeed smooth skin of the buttocks, now warmer to the touch as he removed three leeches from that part of the body. He let out a sigh as he threw the leech on the outcrop nearby, intending to gather them later to dispose of them.

The Marquess then stood before the Prince, avoiding the steady gaze he felt was on him. He took a deep breath, trying to still his beating heart and then grimaced at the two remaining leeches that had latched themselves onto the pelvic area. One was dangerously close to the Prince’s privates and one by the inner thigh.

“Your Highness, I... need you to be very still,” the Marquess began and finally set his eyes on the Prince’s now beet red face. “But p-please part your uh... legs more.”

The Prince did as he was told, nodding vigorously, obviously wanting everything to be over. The Marquess cleared his throat and felt a sudden feeling of deja vu as he knelt before the Prince then slid his dagger’s keen edge over the soft skin of the inner thigh and took off the wriggling leech that had begun to swell. Lord Sarang threw the thing away on the outcrop as well, along with it’s cousins. The Marquess licked his lips nervously at the last one, latched just beside the Prince’s privates which was covered by the loincloth. He took a deep breath, and very carefully avoiding the detailed mound underneath the wet loincloth, he secured his fingers on the leech and pried it off with his blade. The Prince audibly sighed as every one of the leeches were removed. It was then that the Prince and the Marquess were in that position with the latter still kneeling and trying to wipe off the blood that had seeped out of the wound with his pinky by the Prince's crotch that they heard very loud gasps and expletives.

The Marquess stiffened as he stood up and turned to see his brother, his cousin and Yukhei gaping with eyelids peeled way back. Yukhei, as though by instinct, placed his hands over the young gaping Lords as he turned his back.

Blushing even more profusely this time, the Marquess began to explain but Yukhei beat him to it.

“Boys, we didn’t see anything... we are blind, right? See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Now slowly back away and leave the... the... scene of... p-passion,” Yukhei said exaggeratedly. “These things are not for young children like yourself.”

“But you’re younger than Minhyung,” Lord Jeno reminded Yukhei while he tried to pry off the hand covering his face.

“Yes, and I’m a Viscount so you better treat me like one,” Lord Minhyung said indignantly under the palm that covered his mouth instead of his eyes.

“I was removing the leeches from His Highness. Stop acting like you’re all eight years of age,” the Marquess barked. “Yukhei, get that salve for wounds and apply them on the Prince and hand him a change of clothes. Now, before he catches his death!”

“Y-yes, Your Lordship,” Yukhei said quickly and reclaiming his hands to rush to the saddlebag by the horses. “Begging your pardon, Your Highness, Your Lordship. I’m quickening my actions. I deeply apologize for interrupting your... um, whatever you were doing.”

The young Lords were whispering and sniggered while they kept throwing glances at their elder kin. The Marquess glanced at the Prince who then caught his eyes. He mouthed his apology and the Prince returned it with a dimpled smile after mouthing his own ‘thank you’.

They held each other's gaze momentarily, before the Marquess turned to his kin and ordered sternly, “get rid of those leeches before I feed you both to them.”

The young Lords looked aghast.

With that he stormed from the camp, his heart beating wildly at the memory of the Prince’s dimpled smile and soft smooth skin he felt under his fingertips. He hardly slept a wink afterwards with the uncomfortable sensations he felt on and off between his legs throughout the night.

 

 


	11. Actions Speak Volumes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How are y'all? Sorry for the long wait, but i finally finished this chapter. I had to deal with a lot of stuff lately and it's kinda taxing so it's a bit hard to write with my inspiration fleeting like the clouds casting overhead shadows lmao... but i digress...anyways, i hope you enjoy this chapter that was a long time coming XD. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts! Thank you for reading and y'all have a good one! <333

 

 

 

The Prince of Richū opened his eyes at the sound of skittering across the stone floor to stare wide-eyed at the gigantic rodent that was sniffing on his boot and jolted. The rat cringed at the sudden movement and ran to squeeze through the large crack in between the stone walls of the musty room. He struggled but was able to pushed himself up to sit on his bottom and peered all over the dusty floor, alerted. They think I'm dinner, thought the Prince glumly.

Life was not as easy as it would seem for Prince Sicheng. In reality it was taxing, what with all the things he can and cannot do as Royalty. But he was always comfortable, somewhat pampered and never under great distress.

However in the past week, the Prince had been so distraught that it was almost impossible to cope and the last two days had been horrible to say the least. Ever since his home had been attacked he had been through so much emotional trauma, including the guilt of taking a man's life. He had indeed come to terms with killing a man to save the Marquess, much to his surprise. He never would have thought he could dismiss it offhand with the realization that he would do it again to save the Marquess, who was important to him, it would seem. Prince Sicheng never thought he could still remain sane at that point. But then he had to reconsider with his present condition. He didn't know which was worse, the erratic mental torture, emotional stress from fear for his life or his current physical discomfort.

The leech bites had begun scabbing and thus he was itching all over. The Prince would have easily given in to the urge to scratch if only his wrists weren't bound tightly. The rope burns stung as well with all his wrestling with in his hopes to loosen it to no avail. His body ached being in such a cramped position from being hog-tied and gagged for the better part of two days. He was hungry, thirsty and the tender spots resulting from being kicked or punched almost to a pulp riddling his body also began throbbing as well.

He couldn't blame anyone else for his predicament though. It was his fault that he slipped out of the huntsman's cabin where they had decided to camp the night before. His only hope now was for his friends to find and rescue him before the Chāzi decided to take his head off.

The Prince sighed, leaning his head back on the cold, moss-covered stone wall and closed his eyes as though in resignation of his fate. He immediately regretted it, with the vision of the Marquess manifesting against the darkness of his closed eyelids. He didn't want to reminisce what had happened, but it was inevitable.

It all began that night Lord Sarang removed all the leeches feasting on him. He shuddered at remembering the slimy creatures that had latched onto him. The Prince could only be grateful that the Marquess had removed them even though he melted from embarrassment. Also for Yukhei who studiously applied the salve on the nasty bites without any complaint. He smiled, or tried to with the dirty cloth tied around his mouth, at remembering Yukhei shyly guiding his hand to spread the salve on his buttocks himself, not even daring to touch it.

But then the Prince recalled how the Marquess went back to his usual moody self. The one that typically ignored him as he did the following morning, not even sparing him a glance let alone greet him. The Prince grunted and he lost his amusement remembering how when the Marquess noticed, the latter had scolded him like a child when the Prince began scratching his shoulder where the leech bite was, causing it to bleed somewhat. The Marquess seemed to have forgotten he had saved his life was what the Prince thought. Ungrateful and uncouth that he was, nobility aside. Nonetheless, he couldn't discredit the Marquess had saved his life even more than he could count, so he didn't press the matter.

They had traveled the whole day thru the dense forests of Guǐ Sēnlín, where it was said that spirits dwell. They rode deep into that forest mostly in silence, as though there was a thick and oppressive atmosphere punctuated by the eerie darkness caused by the intricately interweaving branches that almost rendered the sunlight dull and opaque.

The Prince recalled teasing the young Lords about the spirits that reportedly dwell in the forest.

"They tend to haunt those who are the most afraid," the Prince recalled saying.

"But I'm not ah... afraid of ghosts or spirits," Lord Jeno said, puffing up his chest.

"Neither am I, Your H-highness," chided Lord Minhyung, voice cracking. "We are not scared, honestly."

"They also do not look kindly on those who are lying," Prince Sicheng declared trying to make his face straight.

"Th-they do?" asked Yukhei with his eyes seemingly wider. "I... have never... ever... not once in my life lied, Your Highness. Never. Ever."

"That's a lie," rebuked Lord Minhyung with a stern voice.

"Obviously," added Lord Jeno who's eyes flitted nervously. "Remember those two barmaids one summer ago when they fought... both claiming..."

"I remember that," Lord Minhyung sniggered. "The barmaids thought Yuk-"

"Hush!" exclaimed Yukhei, looking at the two Lords with a murderous expression.

The Prince only laughed heartily, but suddenly became aware of the Marquess staring at him with a strange expression. The Prince then fell silent.

The party didn't stop and had to nibble on their dwindling rations of dried fruit and stale water from canteens. The Marquess's orders of course, stating that stopping would only slow their progress. Prince Sicheng thought that the Marquess was likely just eager to be rid of him now that their destination was close.

The edge of that forest was where the East Barracks was located, quite close to the ruins of the old barracks that had been attacked by Chāzi decades ago. Their party was about over a day's worth of travel from the barracks and the Prince had become more anxious to see the condition of his father, knowing that he had been hurt. However, he had to admit he was also a saddened by the fact that it could be the last few moments he would be spending with the Marquess.

Come nightfall, the group stumbled upon an old huntsman's cabin where they decided to spend the night. The small run-down structure had a small fireplace, still sturdy table and chairs thankfully. But it only had one tiny room furnished with a narrow bed and a wicker chair. Prince Sicheng felt exhausted, hungry and sticky. After their simple supper of clear fish soup,Ting hauled him a large basin of warmed water from the river close by to wash up and cleanse his wounds.

The Prince took off his shirt and began washing himself with a clean cloth. He could see the bites turning yellow-purplish and the holes were gaping. Apparently leeches have anti-coagulants released when they bite so it took some time before the blood gushing out of the punctures stopped. Those leeches really were hungry, he supposed, as he examined them by the flickering light emitting from the candle on the windowsill. His face was already healed, but now he was riddled with ugly bites, the Prince thought wryly. He jumped at the Marquess suddenly appearing, shutting the door behind him before laying down a change of fresh clothes that Ting had previously washed for him on the bed. Without saying a word, he approached the Prince standing in the middle of the room with a ghost of a smile.

Prince Sicheng blinked as the Marquess took the washcloth from the him. The Marquess held his shoulders, twirling him round so his back was towards the nobleman, and began wiping down the Prince's torso. Prince Sicheng recalled how awkward he felt as he swallowed nervously, not knowing what to say to the Marquess. This nobleman who had been a standoffish, arrogant prig who ignored him the whole day was now helping him. He was clearly a man of opposites, thought the Prince. One moment he was cold and aloof, haughty even, and the next he was caring and gentle. Which one was he really, or was he definitely both?

"Th-thank you, Marquess," the Prince simply said.

"For what, Your Highness?" was the Marquess's curt reply from behind him.

"For everything," Prince Sicheng answered. "You have been so kind to me... most of the time."

The little laugh made the Prince smile and he turned around to face the complex man who had begun applying the salve on his wounds. "You never do as I asked, but I recall clearly telling you to call me by my name, Sicheng."

"Thank you, _Your Highness_." The smile that came after the Marquess's reply took the Prince's breath away. He looked so enchanting with the candlelight casting shadows, accentuating his well defined features while the light flickered and waned.

The Prince's gaze was drawn to those soft curved lips lifting at the corners. There was nothing he could do to prevent it, and even fought his will but lost when he leaned over to kiss the corner of those pink lips. It was as light as a feather, soft as a gentle breeze but the Prince almost quivered at his own lips brushing against the warm skin while his heart raced a mile. The Prince felt Marquess stiffen as he parted from him and gazed into those black pools glistening in the soft light. There was a tenderness in those eyes but was the exact opposite of the expression he wore with his face that seemed to be chiseled from stone.

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness. I must see to the horses," the Marquess had uttered with a strained voice before turning on his heels to depart from the room, closing the door softly behind him. It was that moment that the Prince realized his act of folly and felt the blood drain from his face.

Prince Sicheng took in a ragged breath, faltering at his own embarrassment. What had he done? He didn't know which was more embarrassing, that _kissed_ the Marquess or that the latter didn't respond. It took a while before the Prince found his motor skills as he recalled, before he could change into his fresh clothes. He had the overwhelming sense of shame and shock at his behavior. He failed to control his emotions, something he had been repeatedly taught as a young boy. Never to let his guard down nor reveal any weakness, his tutors had always reminded him. What he had done was the extreme opposite, and it didn't sit well with him. He needed fresh air and perhaps a short stroll to let his raging emotions settle down.

It was then that he had decided to take a short walk, climbing out of the window lest be seen by the Marquess and he couldn't face him just yet. He needed to gather his thoughts and his resolve. _I brazenly threw myself at him._

It didn't feel like it was a long walk, merely a short trek through the dense woods under the faint moonlight. He was so engrossed with his own thoughts that he failed to notice the soft footfalls behind him and it was too late when he realized the presence. Darkness befell him as he was hit on the back of his head, rendering him unconscious, only to wake up hours later to be in his present situation. Fearful and anxious, tied up like an animal ready to be roasted on a spit. He had struggled to sit up to a more comfortable position, no longer willing to lie on the musty, mossy stone pavement of what he recognized as the barracks ruins. Besides, the rat might come back with his friends.

No one had spoken to him, not even when they removed his gag to allow him to drink water or sip some thick broth from a tin cup, his only sustenance for the past day and a half. He needn't ask who they were, nor did they provide any explanation or such information. All the Prince knew was that he may have hours left to live, a couple of days if he was lucky. Unless he were to be rescued. Naturally, he hoped to be. However, what worried him was whether they were aware of his whereabouts. He must put his faith in the Jeonso's tracking skills. And Ting's.

The Prince sighed heavily and leaned his head back to rest it on the stone wall of the dark room, trying to numb himself of all the pain and discomfort. After spending hours in the dank room, he knew escape from what must have been the armory forge, judging by the large stone forge and blacksmith's anvil, was highly unlikely. There was an enormous window to his right framing metal bars which prevented escape, even if he could being bound as he was. To his left was the huge double oak doors, still sturdy despite rusty metal hinges. There was however nothing that could help him slice or cut his bindings save gnawing it with his teeth. He would have tried it if not for his gag. At that point he was dubious of any form of escape, save that of a miracle.

The door burst open and in sauntered a thin but menacing-looking officer with pasty skin. The Prince recalled him as the one who ordered he be beaten after trying to escape while the four soldiers were deep in discussion during their journey to the ruins. He was able to run only for a few hundred spans before he was caught. It caused Prince Sicheng his bruises and he hated the man for it.

"Ah, our handsome Prince is finally awake," the officer said with a snarl as he reached for his dagger. Prince Sicheng's heart leapt to his throat at the blade that shimmered in the mute afternoon sunlight streaming thru the window.

"I hope Your Highness is _comfortable_ ," the officer sneered as he bent down and, to the Prince's surprise, cut the rope from around on the Prince's ankles but left his hands tied.

Prince Sicheng merely glared at him, ignoring his sarcasm and groaned as he was forcibly grabbed by the arms and pulled up to his feet. The pale-skinned officer squinted at Prince Sicheng while he sheathed his dagger. He tried his best not to flinch at the sound of iron scratching against the metal scabbard when the soldier pulled out his longsword and stared bravely into those murderous eyes. "You know, I would have wanted to beat that delicate face until it was unrecognizable, but my Captain is in a rush. Honestly, it's a pity a I have to take that pretty head off of you. It would be painless and too quick a death for my liking, honestly. My brother was killed by your soldiers a few months ago and I'm sure beheading you would ease my family's grief."

The officer changed his stance and raised his sword above the Prince's head. If this was how it would all end then so be it, thought the Prince as he closed his eyes resignedly.

An alarmed cry from down the hall and swords clanging made the Prince's eyes fly open to see the officer turning towards the open door. His heart began racing at the hopes of the ruckus being caused by the Marquess. It had to be.

The officer returned his gaze to the Prince and squinted, raising the sword above his head, preparing his strike as he said coldly, "your friends may try to save you right now and kill me, but they will find your head detached from your body instead."

This time Prince Sicheng didn't bother closing his eyes and stared back defiantly at his would-be killer, ready to meet his end and waited for the killing blow. The timely arrow that flew through the window prevented the officer from performing his final act as he dropped the sword from his hand in favor of grasping at his neck that had been pierced by said arrow. He fell on the stone floor gargling his own blood and struggling for air as he stared at the Prince with the glazed eyes of the dying.

Prince Sicheng gaped and directed his glance at the window to see the Jeonso Min Jungui's head appear, face cracked with a smile. The Prince would have smiled back if not for his gag, but nodded gratefully at his savior. He stepped back from the thrashing soldier who grabbed at his feet and started pulling at him. Prince Sicheng almost lost his balance but another arrow flew thru to pierce the soldier's heart, killing him instantly.

The Prince looked up to see the Jeonso wave and grin sheepishly. "Are you alright, Your Highness?"

Prince Sicheng nodded and the Jeonso gave him a nod before disappearing on horseback and felt relief wash over him. Overcome with a mixture of weariness, hunger and discomfort, he suddenly felt dizzy. He swooned with his vision darkening around him, his knees buckled and almost crumpled beside the officer but strong arms caught him.

"Your Highness, you're safe. I'm here now," the familiar husky voice murmured.

It took a few breaths before Prince Sicheng could focus on the face of the one who held him but immediately knew who it was. The Marquess steadied the Prince and led him to sit on a three-legged wooden stool before he cut off the ropes that bound his hands with his blade. The Marquess cursed as he saw the rope burns while he sheathed his dagger, mumbling something about applying salve on it later. Prince Sicheng was unable to react properly in order to thank him, still a little dazed.

The Marquess untied and took off his gag while he stared into his eyes, and Prince Sicheng caught his breath. There was something in those dark inky pools that made his heart stop.

"Why did you do it? Why did you run away? I was worried to death wondering where you were and what happened to you. I... was afraid I couldn't find you sooner," declared the Marquess in a fierce tirade while he cupped the Prince's face with a firm but controlled grip. The frown on the Marquess's face etched deeply between his brows yet still managed to looked stunningly handsome. Prince Sicheng noted the dark circles around the Marquess's eyes and the pallor of his skin.

"I'm... sorry, I thought you might be upset that night and I... I realize it was a stupid thing what I did back there. Don't worry Marquess, it won't happen again, I..."

The Prince couldn't finish his last sentence and gasped at the sudden onslaught. The Marquess eradicated the distance between them and their lips connected. All thoughts escaped him as the Prince was lost in the sensation of the Marquess's warm lips touching his. It took his breath away as he felt the soft caress, moist and lingering. He had never felt such overpowering emotions rush over him and succumbed to the Marquess's mouth enclosing his, urging him to part his lips open. There was an urgency and a hint of desperation coming from the Marquess that made the Prince giddy and light-headed. He whimpered softly, clutching at the Marquess's coat as their lips brushed against each other, their breaths co-mingling.

Prince Sicheng felt the blood rushing to his face when they parted to stare into each other's eyes. Both lost for words as they gazed at the other in wonder and confusion while the Marquess held onto the Prince's face.

"Sicheng..." the Marquess whispered and the soft but husky voice sent shivers down the Prince's spine. Hearing his name uttered by the Marquess made the Prince heady.

"Marquess, you... we," the Prince began breathlessly but faltered when he heard footsteps. The Prince and the Marquess both turned their heads to see the two Jeonso looking worse for wear but uninjured, entering the room.

"Your Highness, we're glad you are alright," Kang Seojin the elder Jeonso said, looking as relieved as his companion Jungui. The twinkling in their eyes and quirking lips didn't escape the Prince's attention and he bowed his head quickly to hide his embarrassment. _Did they see us? Oh God._

The Marquess seemed to have recovered himself and let go of the Prince before he stood up stiffly.

"Give me your water canteen," the Marquess ordered curtly and took the small tin container handed over by the younger Jeonso he pulled from his jacket. He uncapped it and let the Prince sip from it while the Marquess held it for him.

Prince Sicheng drank a little before lightly pushing the Marquess's hand and motioning to stop. The Prince blushed when the Marquess gently wiped off the driblets of water that remained on his lips with his fingers. It was then that the Marquess noticed the little cut on the corner of Prince's upper lip and he cussed, making the Prince blink.

"Did they hurt you? Is Your Highness injured?" asked the Marquess with a frown, quickly scanning the Prince's body.

"N-no, I'm fine. Do not worry," the Prince lied avoiding the steady gaze of the man before him, but the Marquess obviously didn't believe him.

"We'll see to your wounds and rope burns once we reach the barracks, Your Highness," declared the Marquess. Then he instructed the Jeonso. "Ready the horses. The Prince will ride with me."

Prince Sicheng once again noted the little smirk Jungui made as the two Jeonso walked out of the room to fetch their horses. He could hear their soft whispers and knew exactly what it was they were talking about, despite their low and almost inaudible voices. The Prince sighed. It was useless to hide things from the Jeonso anyway so it was pointless to suppress it nor get upset. They have eyes, and they will naturally use it.

"Your Highness," the Marquess addressed him formally and helped Prince Sicheng stand up. "Can you walk?"

"I believe so," the Prince said with uncertainty. He felt weak and it wasn't surprising since he had very little nourishment. He stood up and his knees wobbled so the Marquess held onto his waist, pulling the Prince to lean against his body. The Prince suppressed the tingles he felt run down his spine at the Marquess's touch, still unable to recover from what had just occurred between them. _We kissed._

The Marquess took the Prince's arm to throw it over the former's shoulders in order to support him. The Prince tried to walk gingerly, still sore from his bruises but didn't complain. He didn't want the Marquess to know he had been beaten knowing it would only make him blame himself for not coming to his rescue earlier.

The two lugged through the dimming halls of the ruins out to the front of the barracks where the horses were held by the Jeonso. The Prince ignored the dead soldiers, a dozen or so of them littered about on the ground. He squinted as the muted sunlight hit his face and let himself be led to mount Midnight. The Marquess helped him straddle the horse and the Prince groaned with the exertion, trying to control his body which was refusing to cooperate from being inert for a long time. The Marquess looked at him worriedly and the Prince gave the him a small smile. Their eyes locked for a moment, trying to communicate unreadable emotions, before the Marquess mounted behind the Prince.

"Your Highness," the Marquess whispered softly into the Prince's ear as he reached around the latter's waist to take the reins. "Lean back so you can rest on my chest. We shall ride fast to join the others."

The Prince swallowed nervously but did as he was told. He felt the warmth of the Marquess's breath on his neck and tried to stay still, willing to steady his erratic heartbeat. "Everyone is... safe?"

"Yes, they are safe," replied the Marquess. "We shall meet them at the ridge just a moment's ride away and we all go directly to the barracks so I can send you there safely before we head back to Kaelaran."

"I... see," the Prince murmured and felt the little pang in his chest. He had forgotten about the fact that they shall soon part ways. "Thank you."

The Marquess said nothing and nudged Midnight to a trot. The Prince felt a sudden pang in his chest at the thought of never seeing the Marquess again. He took a deep breath, trying to berate himself that the kiss they shared earlier was anything other than a spur of the moment. Perhaps it only meant the Marquess was relieved he was still alive.

Their journey together would soon come to an end and the Prince would reunite with his father. He should be glad, but somehow the joy of seeing his father was fleeting. All that persisted in him was an inexplicable ache in his chest.

The Prince closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the Marquess's body pressed against his back and the warmth of the nobleman's breath on his skin. It would seem these were the last forms of intimacy they would share and the Prince thought to etch it into his memory, the smell and warmth of the man who had become dear to him.

The realization made the Prince want to rebel against their fate, but he knew it was pointless. The Marquess had stated repeatedly that they would part ways and that was that. The Prince shifted atop Midnight so he could rest his head on the Marquess's shoulder to bury his nose into the warm neck and wrap his arm around the firm waist. He felt the Marquess stiffen for a moment before he relaxed. Prince Sicheng no longer cared. The Marquess can think whatever he liked, but for the Prince, it was his moment to keep and the former can't take that away from him.

"Taeyong..." the Prince murmured under his breath, letting the name roll softly from his tongue, uncaring if the Marquess heard.

They rode in silence into the dusk, through the forest of Guǐ Sēnlín with the Prince carrying a heavy heart.


	12. Faith In Plots And Orlay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How are y’all? So sorry for the delay, again. This took a hundred years to write saldkfjjd. Been so hard for me to find my taewin muse and real life doesn’t really help any. But finally, here is it is, and it gives us a glimpse of the upcoming events. I hope y’all like it. I really want this story to move forward and if heaven smiles on me it will be done before we know it, fingers crossed. XD
> 
> Y’all have a wonderful day... or evening! Much love- ice <333

 

 

 

 

 

Haedodi Fortress stood magnificently beyond the Hamae River with its white marble walls gleaming under the bright sunlight. Grandiose was the word typically used to describe such blatant display of opulence and power. Its enormity was almost inconceivable and would leave anyone in awe by just gazing upon it. Even the dozens of richly-garbed sentries guarding the gates in their pristine and shiny armors was a striking sight. The parapets along the thick walls were guarded by scores of archers and huge trebuchets made the sight somewhat ominous. Inside the walls, nobility bustled about in their colorful attires displaying wealth that commoners and servants rushing about would label as frivolity.

However, none of these things mattered to His Royal Majesty, King Yukiko of Tsuyoi who was preoccupied with his own dour thoughts as he climbed up the long stairway leading to the main hall of the fortress. The only thing currently occupying his mind was how to convince an evidently powerful force behind this affluent King of Kaelaran. The one who in reality led and controlled the mightiest army in this part of the world. One who never lost a battle. The Commander of both military and naval forces of Kaelaran. His Grace the Duke of Sarang.

The King of Kaelaran was a great one indeed because of his younger brother the Duke of Sarang and with the assistance of the Earl of Yulyeong-ui, who acted as the Admiral of the naval fleet. His brothers were his left and right hands. They were forces to be reckoned with, especially the King's Commander the Duke. The King of Tsuyoi was in amiable terms with King Hyojin of Kaelaran. But King Yukiko had not been as lucky with the two younger brothers. The Duke and the Earl were somewhat elusive and mostly kept private among themselves. He had only seen them once or twice whenever he visited on formal occasions but never got the chance to 'mingle' with them properly. More so with the Marquess, the Duke of Sarang's heir.

King Yukiko had heard the Marquess of Sarang was a highly skilled warrior and a demon in the battlefield, even leading successful skirmishes and assaults. From what he had gathered from whispers among his court was that the Marquess had connections with Valdavan's third Prince having trained there most of his life, apart from him being favored by his uncle the King. He could be the key to seeking help from Valdavan as well. If only he could convince King Hyojin to 'lend' him at least three thousand strong from his hundreds of thousands of warriors and a couple of battleships from his naval force then his assault at Chazi Castle might have a chance. A few dozen sappers and a dozen catapults and trebuchets from Valdavan and Kaelaran would ensure his breaking a way thru that damned castle, if he were lucky.

It was a tall order, gathering forces from both Kaelaran and Valdavan and it seemed impossible. King Yukiko could feel the uncertainty in his heart, but his desire to avenge his daughter was greater than the worry he felt in convincing them to participate in a war they had no interest in whatsoever. All he could do was appeal to their good graces and their... _pity_.

King Yukiko pressed his lips into a thin line as though to suppress his anxiety as the enormous heavily carved double-doors to the grand hall opened to let him and his retinue in. As the King was announced, he gazed at the end of the pillar-lined hall filled with nobles bowing gracefully as he passed by but his eyes were set at the far end where King Hyojin of Kaelaran stood before his ornate and gilded throne, regal, handsome but with a shrewd expression on his face. King Yukiko wondered what this Lee clan's nourishment was to produce such stunningly good-looking men.

To his right stiffly stood his retainer King Yukiko recognized as Lord Hwahae, also of the Lee clan. King Yukiko swore he had never seen that man break a smile on his sharply featured face and he always seemed to be watching with his hawk-eyes. But none looked more stern and more fierce than the six black-clad Jeonso warriors with their faces covered by black hoods and sheer masks, leaving only their eyes exposed. They were standing three abreast on each side of the throne and seemed to be statues with an ominous ready-to-strike stance. The very Jeonso warriors King Yukiko had hoped to 'borrow' for his plan of attack. His own Senshi warriors paled in comparison to these Jeonso who were born and raised to fight... and trained to kill. Nothing more.

King Yukiko didn't know if it was his imagination but there was a somber atmosphere with only hushed whispers rising above the hall of white and gold motif, with red drapes adorning the walls between enormous stained glass windows. He noticed the heavily armed sentries all around the large elongated room who stood with their back against the walls, eyes moving to and fro, alert and ready to defend their King if need be.

"Welcome, Yukiko," King Hyojin addressed informally, his voice softly echoing within the hall as he shook both hands of King Yukiko. "You have my deepest sympathies for your great loss. My family and I offer our condolences to you and yours."

"Thank you, Hyojin. This is comforting to know," King Yukiko murmured, trying to appear as calm as he could without showing any evidence of his anxiousness.

"I regret seeing you again during these dark times, Yukiko. But it is always a pleasure to see you."

"Indeed, Hyojin. My pleasure is even greater."

"I trust you had an agreeable journey?" King Hyojin asked politely.

"The sea was calming to some extent, and the short stop at the Lost Isles made it even more bearable," King Yukiko replied candidly.

"Ah, good... good. The Lost Isles is a paradise in the midst of vast seas meant for relaxation. I hope it pleases you that I had some refreshments prepared for you and your party upon arrival. It would put my mind at ease if you all have some rest later on before we have the small banquet tonight, my friend," King Hyojin said with a small smile.

"You honor me, Hyojin. It does please me so."

"The honor is mine, Yukiko."

"Hyojin, my friend, there is something I wish to... discuss with you," King Yukiko began. "I wonder if I might have a word with you in private before..."

"Of course, Yukiko. Whatever you wish," King Hyojin said earnestly. Then he instructed his retainer, "Hwahae, see to it that His Majesty's retinue have some refreshments before showing them to their quarters."

"Very good, Your Royal Majesty," Lord Hwahae replied then bowed deeply before the two monarchs. "Your Royal Majesty, King Yukiko, I welcome you as well." King Yukiko nodded in acknowledgment. Then Lord Hwahae guided the King's retinue from Tsuyoi to another part of the castle.

"Come, Hyojin. We can speak freely inside my chambers," the King of Kaelaran murmured while patting his visitor on the back.

King Hyojin led King Yukiko to the royal drawing room who in turn was followed by his retainer Yukkuri, his royal guards the five Senshi armed to the teeth. They were the only ones allowed inside the fortress to carry their weapons. However, the half-dozen Jeonso who were equally if not more armed, trailed behind with a careful watch over them.

King Hyojin walked the halls leading to the drawing room with King Yukiko who barely kept himself from fidgeting. He had never felt this nervous since his coronation day, walking down the very long hallway. He cleared his throat and said cautiously, "Hyojin, your Jeonso are a powerful force, very handy in battle."

"Of course they are," King Hyojin boasted. "They were trained even before they could learn to run."

They stopped before heavy oak doors and the warriors situated themselves in the hall, stiff and alert. The two sentries opened them to let the monarchs in.

"That is very evident and admirable," King Yukiko said in agreement. "I...Hyojin, I wondered if... it were possible to borrow a couple of thousands of your Jeonso and perhaps..."

"Ah... I don't think that is wise, Yukiko. Sending you a few thousand of my men might only lead to futility. A waste of human resources, if I may boldly say so, with a high risk of defeat," King Hyojin said shrewdly.

King Yukiko felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Was it all for naught, he thought somberly as the other monarch led him inside the magnificent brightly lit and lavishly furbished drawing room. So, the King of Kaelaran will not help him, thought King Yukiko desolately.

Then his eyes fell upon two familiar noblemen sitting at a smallish round table laden with refreshments at the right side of the room near the enormous blazing fireplace. Once the two men saw the monarchs enter the room, they stood and bowed gracefully.

"Yukiko, meet my younger brothers, the Duke of Sarang and the Earl of Yulyeong-ui. They will help you wage a war against the usurper King Cuànwèi. We will join you in your fight, Your Majesty, and hopefully win it." King Hyojin said somberly. "Come, let us plan our attack."

King Yukiko held back the fresh tears threatening to fall. Tears of joy and hope. Soon, he shall have his revenge.

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hyunmin of Sarang stood at the balcony of the small upper floor drawing room with the heels of her bejeweled hands resting on the balustrade. She was looking down at the King of Tsuyoi and his entourage as they climbed up the long stairway to the fortress's great hall. Her black hair and smooth white skin was a contrast to her red muslin gown and velvet cape of the same color. Her coronet held her hair in tight bun over her head, revealing the delicate features and large eyes that crinkled when she smiled. However, at the moment a slight frown marred her picturesque face.

Lady Hyunmin, now titled Her Grace, the Duchess of Sarang, was used to foreign dignitaries and royalty visiting. Being the daughter of a Duke and a Princess herself, she was well aware that King Yukiko's visit was not a social one. This bothered her among other things, and her frown deepened.

It was quite understandable, having had to worry over her two sons who were currently gallivanting in a foreign land wreaked in havoc. Both were capable in combat and self-reliance. Oh yes, they were. She made sure of that, having had them training since they were children. Especially her elder son the Marquess. However, mother was not one if she didn't worry over her children. But today, her main concern was the King of Tsuyoi seeking audience with her brother-in-law King Hyojin.

Most would have considered her frail and petite figure as evidence of a soft and delicate woman, but this wasn't the case. She was no weak noblewoman. No one would have figured out how sly and devious she was toward her enemies, or those who opposed her. No one would have guessed she was the ubiquitous power behind the Duke of Sarang and his mighty army. Nobody, except her spies and her Lady-in-waiting.

"Your Grace," a soft but firm voice uttered from behind the Duchess. She turned around to see her Lady-in-waiting Jiseul, a tall and striking woman who ridiculously insisted on wearing revealing, low-cut shifts similar to those worn by Valdavan noblewomen.

The Duchess raised an eyebrow to acknowledge Lady Jiseul who continued with her message.

"Your Grace, the maiden you were expecting has arrived," Lady Jiseul announced. "She claims to have news from Richū."

"Send her in and leave us," the Duchess commanded. Lady Jiseul curtsied and left the room.

The Duchess sat on the wing-backed chair by the fireplace and tapped her hand on the armrest impatiently. She had hoped to hear from the woman for some time, but she knew traveling by land took almost a week. She dared not have her send the message by way of pigeons for fear of someone intercepting it. The Duchess had always believed tact is of most import.

After a moment a voluptuous woman in riding clothes entered the room, looking worse for wear as though she had traveled from hell and back.

"Your Grace," the woman said before curtsying.

"My dear Luchen, you look awfully dreadful," the Duchess wrinkled her nose.

"I apologize Your Grace, I had been continuously riding and I came directly from the Richū inn without..."

The Duchess waved her hand impatiently and said, "I understand you must be tired, so make haste and tell me what you must."

"Innkeeper Lim asked me to give you this," the woman handed a sealed envelope to the Duchess who took it with much anticipation after motioning Luchen to sit on the chair opposite her.

The Duchess broke the seal and retrieved the note from inside the small envelope. She quickly scanned the contents and finally sighed.

"So, my son is with his would-have-been fiance are headed for the Richū barracks near the mines," the Duchess stated with her lips quirking and rang a tiny bell that was sitting atop the side table. "Orlay... it must be."

A servant entered laden with a tray of a steaming pot of strong black tea and an assortment of tiny cakes. The servant set the tray down at the center table and poured the tea for the Duchess and Luchen before retreating from the room.

"O-orlay, Your Grace?"

"Fate... destiny... my sweet Luchen. Now, tell me everything you know," the Duchess said while handing the teacup to her informant. "We must begin to set my plans in motion, Luchen. We must discuss our strategy."

Luchen took the tea gratefully from the Duchess and took a small sip before speaking. "I agree, Your Grace. But before we do I must tell M'Lady, my cousin sent a message to me just before I left."

The Duchess couldn't contain a small gasped and visibly became excited, something seldom seen publicly. She was on the edge of her seat, anticipating the following words from Luchen and asked eagerly, "your cousin, whom we asked to be stationed as a scullery maid at the Chāzi Castle?"

"The very one, Your Grace."

"Well? Was she successful?"

"By her own words, Your Grace, she said 'the head cook now favors me'," Luchen declared with a satisfied smile. "She gets to stir the pots herself."

The Duchess reached over to pat the hand of her informant and smiled. A devious smile. "Something is brewing, my dear Luchen. With the help of your cousin, we'll do some cooking of our own very soon."

***

Evenlight couldn't stop the busy inhabitants of the Eastern Barracks which obviously had a tense atmosphere hanging in the air. The Marquess was with his party behind him at the barracks courtyard as their horses were led out back by the stable-hands assisted by a worn-out looking Ting. The Marquess stood quietly observing amidst the bustle of servants rushing about with their chores and some soldiers still practicing to one side of the large open grounds, taking advantage of the faint light fusing with large fire-pits dotting the grounds. From a distance, he could hear the clanging of several blacksmiths' hammers as they forged sturdy weapons for the army. He could smell the curing of hardened leather for their armor as well, combined with the aroma of spicy meat stew being prepared for supper, mingling with the strong odors emanating from the stables and of human sweat from the half-naked muscular soldiers about. The atmosphere was no different from that of Haedodi Fortress and their own Summer Palace in Sarang, only the two aforementioned were much larger in both size and population.

The Marquess and his party were a short distance away from the Royalty as they stood quietly, feeling slightly uncomfortable while Prince Sicheng wept softly in his father the King's arms. It was difficult to witness, knowing how much sorrow they both had to bear from their loss not only of their kin, but also their very kingdom. Grief must have been overwhelming for the King but the Marquess of Sarang noted how His Majesty seemed to be the one comforting the Prince as they spoke softly to each other. He wondered if the Prince himself was on the verge of breaking down, having gone through a harrowing ordeal earlier.

Seeing His Highness bound and gagged with those rope burns marring his skin tore his heart out. The Marquess never thought he could feel such anger when he saw the Prince in such a terrible state that it overwhelmed him. However, he was also relieved that Prince Sicheng was alive and safe, all things considered. The Marquess grimaced at suddenly remembering what he had done. He had lost his control at seeing the Prince and he couldn't believe he literally pounced on the latter. He was well aware of the palpable sexual tension between them. A physical attraction that had been building up since a while back. But to actually kiss the Prince while his Jeonso was right behind him and possibly watched...

The Marquess shuddered and knew that if he had allowed any further _slips_ , he would be exposing himself to a difficult situation that likely would have been near to impossible to escape. He was not ready to immerse himself in a serious entanglement at this point in time. Not with his battered and broken heart, and most certainly not with another prince. Especially when he knew they would be separated soon.

But then, if he did act upon their obvious sexual tension they could realize it was purely physical. Nothing more. Lord Sarang had come to the conclusion that it was merely a physical need on his part, and he supposed it was the same for the Prince. If perhaps they indulged in it, on the morrow everything would have been forgotten when he left for Headodi. And then he could continue on with being... miserably alone. _What am I even considering? God._

"...missing Cook Hana's delicacies at Haedodi. Those soft warm buns filled with shredded meat in that dark salty-sweet sauce," Lord Jeno's moderately low whisper broke through the Marquess's troubled thoughts.

"I like the sweet ones filled with black beans," Lord Minhyung said in a dreamy voice. "And those tea cakes... mmhh. But your own cook at the Summer Palace makes that awesome spicy black bean noodles..."

"So does your cook in Yulyeong-ui, Minhyung. He also makes the most tender roasted beef that melts in your mouth," Lord Jeno said while he obviously salivated.

"And roasted chicken with spicy red sauce," Lord Minhyung agreed.

"Stop it. You two are making me hungry," complained Yukhei.

"But we are hungry," muttered Lord Jeno.

"Yeah, starving. We haven't had a decent meal since... wait... I can't even remember when we last ate chicken," whined Lord Minhyung who mimicked someone close to tears.

"Our own cook at the Summer Palace in Sarang does make very tasty spicy noodles," Lord Jeno said thoughtfully.

"Cook Jung makes the fresh noodles by hand every day. But I believe, Cook Hana is the best. Headodi Fortress is lucky to have someone like her. I just hate it when she chases me out of the kitchen with her gigantic ladle," said Yukhei with a small pout.

"That's because you dip your finger into everything she's cooking," reminded Lord Jeno with his eyes smiling.

"And you poke the dough she's letting rise every time. I recall she said you loved _poking_ things," Lord Minhyung rolled his eyes at Yukhei who looked as though genuinely admonished.

"Not to mention the flirting and canoodling with the scullery maids. You poke them too," teased Lord Jeno. The two Jeonso sniggered at that.

"What?! No!" Yukhei's scowl deepened with every statement the young Lords made and felt slightly miffed at the Jeonso. "I... do... not... poke..."

"Of course you don't. Seriously, I just want to go home," whined Lord Jeno with a sigh. "I miss my room."

"I miss my bed. We haven't slept anywhere without rocks and roots poking at my backside lately," complained the Viscount as he rubbed his back as though to make his point.

"And the blade handles poking..." Lord Jeno began but was halted by Yukhei's stern voice.

"Stop it with the poking already..."

They all sniggered, except the Marquess who's lips were a thin line.

"I miss Mother..." said Lord Jeno with a pout.

"I miss Mama too," was the soft murmur from Lord Minhyung.

"I miss Cook Hana," said Yukhei with a deep sigh, earning strange looks from the young Lords.

The Marquess, unable to stand the foolish banter any longer, turned to face the three young men who abruptly fell quiet upon seeing the his expression. "Stop whining. It's not as though you two didn't _chose_ to escape from the fortress to traipse around a dangerous foreign land, decidedly unescorted and without permission. You should have been more mature about this and at the very least suffer the consequences of your foolish act. Anyway, we're leaving for home as soon as..."

"I hear my son owes you his life," the deep resounding voice of the King of Richū interrupted the Marquess's discourse with the others.

Lord Sarang turned to face King Wei Yong with Prince Sicheng by his side, and they all bowed to honor his presence.

"Your Majesty," the Marquess said politely.

The King gave them a small nod in return and still managed to look dignified despite the sling which supported his injured forearm while he studied the small party curiously. The dark circles beneath his eyes were the only evidence of his grief. He then reached for the Marquess with his good arm and settled his hand over the broad shoulder of the younger nobleman and gave it a short squeeze before he let go.

"I am forever in your debt, ah... Master Lee Taeyong, is it not? I do not know how to reward you except that I... my gratitude is boundless. Thank you for all your help," the King said somberly. "If it weren't for your timely intervention at the castle..."

"Father, may I present the Marquess of Sarang, Lord Lee Taeyong," Prince Sicheng interrupted while wiping off the tear streaks from his face with his bare hands. He went on to introduce the rest who all bowed deeply once again as they were mentioned. "This is Lord Sarang's younger brother Lord Jeno and his cousin the Viscount of Yulyeong-ui, Lord Minhyung. His Lordship's retainer here is Wong Yukhei."

The King looked utterly surprised. " _The_ Marquess? Indeed? I apologize, I never realized..."

"The apology should come from me, Your Majesty. I beg your forgiveness. I was the one who... misrepresented myself due to some misunderstanding," Lord Sarang said and bowed deeply, ignoring the coughing and unabashed sniggers from his kin. And Yukhei who snorted audibly. He then added, "it was my pleasure to help, Your Majesty."

"No matter. I truly appreciate everything you've done to bring my son back in one piece. I have heard of your prowess in battle, Sarang. Your reputation precedes you," the King adressed the Marquess informally with a hint of admiration. "I have always wanted my sons to be great warriors or at least to know which end of a blade was to be gripped, but alas... their interests lay elsewhere. Sicheng here is more interested in..."

"Father... perhaps you should rest now," interjected Prince Sicheng with his cheeks slightly blossoming a pretty pink.

The King threw an admonishing glance at his flustered son and ignored the Prince's suggestion. "Your Uncle King Hyojin as well as your father the Duke and I had exchanged letters and we all agreed it would have been an excellent match between you and my youngest son. I wouldn't have wanted a better partner for him. I would have been proud to have you as my son-in-law, Marquess. Pity you had plans to go back to Valdavan and assist with the skirmishes in the north as was explained by your Uncle."

By his tone of voice, King Wei Yong obviously didn't believe Lord Sarang's petty excuse crafted by his father. This was turning into a very very awkward situation. The one Lord Sarang had hoped to escape from had come to bite him in his firm bottom.

"I... yes, Your Majesty," the Marquess cleared his throat.

"Father, I really think this isn't the time to... discuss this..." Prince Sicheng began but the King waved his son in dismissal.

"Discuss or not, we still believed it was the perfect match. The Duke's son is a striking young man, Sicheng. You two would look the most handsome couple in all the courts in this land and I do say so myself."

"Father..." Prince Sicheng was close to fleeing from pure shame, avoiding the eyes of the Marquess.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." It was Lord Sarang's turn to be embarrassed. He could find no appropriate words to say.

"Ah, please ignore the wishful mutterings of an old man. But, you must all be tired. We shall speak again Marquess, once you all have settled and rested," the King finally said.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. But I must inform you it is of utmost urgency that we leave tomorrow at first light. I have to accompany my brother and cousin back to Headodi as soon as possible, lest His Majesty King Hyojin, His Grace the Duke of Sarang and Lord Yulyeong-ui send out reinforcements to locate my missing kin who had chosen to... indulge in an adventure in Your Majesty's lands."

It took a moment before the King understood and then squinted at the young Lords before he barked a hearty laugh. "I see your sibling and cousin are bold. You truly are kin. I can visualize your elders when they realized their sons and nephews are missing."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," agreed Lord Sarang. Lords Jeno and Minhyung could only stare at their booted feet while nudging at each other, murmuring soft apologies to the King.

"You cannot curb the youth's enthusiasm, my dear Sarang. I understand as I too have been young once. But I must insist that we speak before you decide to leave," King Wei Yong said lightly.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

The King gave an amused smile and thereafter instructed his retainer hovering behind him. "Lei, kindly lead our new guests to the hall and have some food and refreshments prepared. They must be famished. Later on, you may show them their quarters."

"Very good Your Majesty," Lord Lei responded with a low bow.

The King excused himself before he was whisked away by one of his Captains to speak of something about the barracks to the south near the borders before any other conversation could ensue. The Prince was then approached by a slight, older man who walked with a limp and looked close to tears at the sight of the former.

"Your Highness."

The Prince smiled broadly at the sight of the man, looking genuinely pleased. He held both of the other man's arms who had just greeted him. "Bohai, I'm glad you are safe. Thank goodness."

"Thank you, Your Highness. If I may lead you to your quarters, I shall have a bath drawn and dress your wounds," Bohai said with an undertone of worry.

"You needn't concern yourself, Bohai. I can do it myself," replied the Prince but allowed himself to be led away after a nod at the Marquess and his party. "I shall see you all in a while and join you at supper."

As the Prince left, the Royal retainer Lord Lei addressed the guests with the severity of a nobleman at court. "My Lords, if you please follow me..."

"Food."

"Chicken."

Lord Jeno and Lord Minhyung whispered simultaneously with Yukhei rolling his eyes at them as they shuffled behind the retainer toward the keep's hall.

"Your Lordship..." Seojin, the elder Jeonso addressed the Marquess as though asking to be relieved themselves. The Marquess waved his hand in dismissal and the two Jeonso in turn bowed then headed for the soldiers' mess hall at the garrison in hushed whispers. Lord Sarang had a slight idea what it was they were discussing and he grimaced. _Busybodies_.

The Marquess paused to stare at the Prince's back as the latter walked away together with his retainer with a limp. In his mind were scrambled thoughts, still unclear whether he should give in to his physical instincts or remain on the safer side. But one thing was sure. He will regret leaving His Royal Highness behind. Shrugging almost dejectedly, the Marquess followed his brother and cousin to the hall. It will certainly be a long night ahead.

***

The Marquess stood staring out into the blackness of the night thru the open window of his designated room which was not luxurious but comfortable with a large bed in it's center, a small roaring fireplace to one end wherein two wing-backed chairs were placed before it. A soft spring breeze caressed his serene face which was a contrast to his emotions which was in turmoil. It was hard to contain his desire urging him to see the Prince. Luckily he didn't know where he was.

Since supper, the Marquess had not had any opportunity to speak to the Prince. Although he really had no idea what to say. He was utterly confused and afraid that he might unnecessarily say something he shouldn't. Despite this, Lord Sarang knew he was drawn to the Prince and wanted to... what did he really want? He shouldn't even be complicating these things in the first place. He was definitely a mess and had to get hold of himself before things got worse. Perhaps the morrow will make his head clearer after some much needed rest.

The Marquess headed for the bed and slipped under the covers, making himself more comfortable. He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind of all the worries, at least for the moment. The morrow will all make it better, he repeated to himself as he felt his body slowly succumb to the drowsiness. It was all but short-lived however as the door burst open and so did his eyes. The Marquess blinked in surprise to see the Prince of Richū, in his loose trousers and night shirt, shutting the door behind him. The way he locked the door made Lord Sarang swallow nervously. What was this Royal up to now?

The Prince approached the bed with a vial of what appeared to be oil in his hand. Prince Sicheng looked nervous as he licked his lips and said, "I apologize for intruding, Marquess. But will... will you please help me apply this on my back? I couldn't let my retainer see... my bruises because he might tell Father."

It was a logical request, thought Lord Sarang. A practical and plausible one, which the Marquess completely understood. So why was his heart suddenly racing as the Prince sat on the edge of the bed and handed him the vial.

The Marquess sat up and inched closer to the Prince as he took the vial. He could feel his pulse getting stronger by the second. Especially when Prince Sicheng lifted his shirt and revealed his torso. Lord Sarang hissed. It was riddled with bruises all turning into a deep reddish brown.

"Bastards. I'm sorry, Your Highness. I should have been there earlier."

"No! It wasn't your fault. I am completely to blame for this," protested the Prince who turned to face the Marquess. "I should in fact be thanking you for... rescuing me once more. You have been my savior on numerous accounts and I don't think I have ever thanked you enough."

"Still, it is... _was_ my responsibility to see to the safety of my companions," muttered the Marquess as he began applying the coconut oil gently on the ugly and tender bruises on the Prince's rib cage. "I should have been aware that danger was close by now. It was my responsibility to..."

"I was foolish," Prince Sicheng interrupted. "I... wanted to escape."

The Marquess paused involuntarily at the Prince's revelation. "Escape? Escape from what? From whom? The Chazi?"

"From... you," murmured the Prince.

Lord Sarang's eyes widened with surprise. " _Me_? Why? Have I offended you in any way?"

The Prince looked mortified. "No. No, no! Do not be mistaken, Taeyong. You have done no wrong whatsoever. You have only ever performed everything perfectly. It is I who..."

"Please listen, Your Highness..."

"Sicheng."

The Marquess blinked at the apparent insistence of the Prince's addressing themselves with their first names. "Alright then. Sicheng. I understand you feel obliged to be indebted to me and may think that I have been ah... burdened by your presence. Please don't be. I did what I had to in order to save you and help your kingdom. Any other man would have done the same. Anyway, you no longer have the need to feel obligated. We shall be leaving for Kaelaran tomorrow."

"I don't believe any ordinary man would," Prince Sicheng disagreed, ignoring the last statement made by the Marquess. "You are one of a kind, Taeyong. You had the skills and the power to fight and you used it to help others whom you were not obligated to in any way. Staying to fight, to protect, instead of fleeing. You have honor and dignity. I... admire you for that."

"Your— Sicheng, I am far from honorable. I am nothing but a titled nobleman and a weapon utilized by a foreign land in the north. I am not who you think I am. Far from it, if I'm to be honest. You know very little of me," the Marquess expressed with a tremor in his husky voice. He finished applying the oil on the Prince's body and placed the stopper on the vial before setting it down on top of the nightstand. "Don't be fooled by everything you see. Your emotions are getting..."

"I have eyes, yes. And they see the truth. And... my... feelings are my own. You have no right to tell me what I may choose to believe, Taeyong," the Prince said as he held the Marquess's gaze steadily. "You have no right to tell me to... not... not feel anything for you. You can no longer deny how... how... I've fallen for you."

The Marquess was speechless. The Prince had just outright admitted that he... no, this has to stop, thought Lord Sarang.

"Your Highness, please stop. Perhaps you're confused..."

"Sicheng."

"Your..."

"My name is Sicheng," the Prince whispered his interruption and without any warning he leaned over to kiss the Marquess.

Lord Sarang was taken aback, unable to think of an appropriate response except to yield to those soft lips moving against his. All his protestations were shattered when he felt the Prince slip his hands around his neck and feel the moist tongue exploring his mouth.

Lord Sarang pulled the Prince closer to him to lay down beside him while they continued to savor the delightful sensation of their lips pressed against each other's. They were bound together by a tight embrace, as though the fear of losing the other was imminent. Their hands began to explore each other's skin underneath their clothing, feeling the smoothness under their palms while they continued the onslaught of their mouths.

All sane thoughts were forgotten. The only thing on their mind was each other, their feel, their scent and their touch. Their kisses became urgent, the caresses more eager as they lay entwined on the bed, covers kicked away to prevent restriction of their movements, followed by their discarded nightshirts.

Lord Sarang let his mouth trail lower from the Prince's neck down to his chest, nipping at the smooth skin while being careful enough to avoid the bruised flesh. The Marquess took a pert nipple in his mouth and teased it tantalizingly. He could feel the Prince's shudders and hear the latter's soft moans which aroused him further, emboldening him to go down even lower to shower the torso with soft kisses. He stole a glance at the Prince whose eyes were shut tightly, brows creased.

Lord Sarang crawled back up to lay on the Prince's side and caressed the latter's cheek. "Sicheng... are you... ready for this? It's not too late to stop this..."

"Take me," was the Prince's breathy response as his eyes flew open to meet the Marquess's gaze.

The Marquess could feel his heart pounding as he let his hand trail lower and caressed the hard mound between the Prince's legs . He whispered into the Prince's ear, "are you sure you want me? You want us to..."

Prince Sicheng groaned and licked his lips while the Marquess fondled him over his trousers. "Yes. I have never made love before but I want... I want you badly," the Prince said huskily while snaking his arms around the Marquess as they stared at one another.

The Marquess paused at the Prince's words. "You've never..."

"There's always a first, is there not?"

"That is true."

They smiled at one another and mouths melded lustily, hungry for the taste of each other while their exploratory kiss deepened. The Marquess let his mouth trail lower, sampling the warm skin of the Prince's neck, biting the soft skin while the latter's hand found his own aching manhood. He groaned at the awkward fondling and teasing of his erection as his tongue slid all over the Prince's collarbone.

Lord Sarang loosened the tie of the Prince's drawstring trousers and slipped his hand inside to caress the hard shaft. The audible moans that escaped the Prince was smothered by the Marquess as the latter sought his lips once more. They kissed passionately while the Marquess shoved aside the loincloth and continued to squeeze and caress the hardened manhood. Prince Sicheng arched his pelvis closer, grinding it against the Marquess's hand. Lord Sarang grunted while the Prince was squeezing the his shaft making him bite the latter's skin even more.

The Marquess shifted to discard the Prince's trousers and untied the loincloth to reveal the nakedness of the Prince. His gaze roamed hotly over the naked body and the pulsating member. He no longer cared about the consequences and the Marquess's mind was only filled with the thoughts of consummating their union.

Lord Sarang disrobed his own trousers and reached for the oil which was luckily on hand by the nightstand. He oiled his fingers and thereafter placed himself between the Prince's legs and began caressing the latter's groin. He could see the Prince writhing in pleasure as he caressed and fondled him. Then he let his finger slip down to the Prince's puckered hole. The Prince gasped as he locked eyes with the Marquess.

The Marquess teased the now sleek hole's rim and his breathing became labored as he watched the Prince squirm in pleasure.

"Oh my God...", cried out the Prince while Lord Sarang's finger was gently being pushed inside him.

Lord Sarang could feel the tightening around his index finger and imagined his own manhood thrusting inside the tight hole and almost lost it. He controlled his breathing and tried to calm himself as he gently slipped his finger in and out of the warm cavern. He bent over to kiss the Prince lustily and let his tongue trace the soft lips. Prince Sicheng hung onto him tightly, wrapping his arms around the Marquess's neck and running his hands through the thick grey hair.

The Marquess parted from the Prince's lips to whisper hoarsely in the latter's ear, "relax, Sicheng. Let the pleasure take you but don't fight it."

The Prince seemed to heed his request and relaxed his body somewhat, but his moans and groans didn't stop. The Marquess slowly added another finger and the Prince clenched himself once more.

"Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop..."

"N-no. Don't stop, please," replied the Prince huskily. "That feels so good."

The Marquess then continued to thrust his fingers slowly while he nibbled on the Prince's sensitive nipple. He wanted to take the Prince right then, but he had to be a little more patient. He continued his ministrations until he felt the Prince was almost ready.

"Please, Taeyong... now please."

Lord Sarang withdrew his fingers and reached for the oil while he settled himself between the Prince's legs once more and lubricated himself and the Prince. Lord Sarang aimed himself and slowly penetrated the tight hole, groaning as he did. The sleek sensation wrapping his member was delicious and amatory as he very slowly pushed himself inside deeper. The Prince cried out throatily, clutching at the pillow his head lay upon.

The Marquess leaned over the Prince, supporting himself with his forearms so as not to crush the tender and bruised body. Prince Sicheng pulled him lower till their bodies melded, ignoring the injuries and slight discomfort. The Marquess could see the ecstasy on the Prince's face as he began thrusting inside him deeper until he filled the the sleek canal.

Their lips met once more, moans intermingling with their breaths. Their tongues exploring each other's mouths while the Marquess started to pump into the Prince ever so slowly. The warm and moist sensation filling his senses as he began to pick up the rhythm. The sensual act caused them to feel immeasurable delight, enveloping them both with the fiery passion that burned within them.

They were lost in their own world, where only the sensations and pleasure mattered. The Marquess was grinding into the Prince even faster now, and began fondling the Prince's pulsating shaft between them. The Prince raked the Marquess's back while he quivered underneath him, obviously beginning to sense his orgasm coming. The Marquess bent down to nibble on the Prince's neck as the latter shuddered and cried out in rapture. Lord Sarang watched the Prince's face with parted lips bathed in the flickering candlelight as he came, spilling his seed between them.

"Taeyong..."

The Marquess could feel his own climax building and he buried his face into the Prince's crook of his neck. A few more deep thrusts and he came panting inside the sleek hole, trembling. He lay on top of the Prince while letting the spasms pass, immersed in the height of his own ecstasy. He was gratified and sated as he felt the Prince's hands caress his sleek body coated with perspiration. The Marquess sought the Prince's lips and they kissed languidly.

Moments later, the Marquess pulled out of the Prince and used his soiled shirt to clean themselves. Then he lay spent on the Prince's side, pulling the later closer as they held each other in a warm embrace.

"Do you feel sore," asked the Marquess softly while he let his hand travel up and down the Prince's arm over his chest who's head lay on his shoulder.

"I feel... wonderful. I have never thought making love would be so... beautiful and so pleasurable," replied the Prince who looked up to gaze upon Lord Sarang's gleaming face. "I... I love you, Taeyong."

Lord Sarang stiffened but he kissed the Prince deeply before responding, "rest well, _love_."

The Prince stared at him for a moment, his eyes searching the Marquess's who smiled at him with soft eyes. He couldn't for the life of him, say the same words and the Marquess felt a pang in his chest. He can't. It would be better this way. To protect himself and the Prince. The Marquess stroked the Prince's back and lulled him to sleep until he felt the even breathing of the latter. The Prince was finally asleep.

Slowly, the Marquess extricated himself and poured water from the ceramic jug into the small basin sitting on the washstand. He washed his torso with the cool water and washcloth, careful not to wake the Prince. Refreshed, he then took out clean change of clothing from his saddlebags Yukhei had brought up. He donned his clothes and slipped into his boots. He needed some air. He had to clear his head. What had just happened? He couldn't blame the Prince who only sought the love he thought he felt. He obliged the Prince because he also wanted it, but it should never have happened. It was folly. He let his guard down and now he had to face the consequence.

The Marquess slipped slowly out of the room and let himself out into the hall, intending to take a stroll out in the courtyard.

"Ah, Marquess," the deep voice startling the Marquess came from the last person he had wanted to see. The very person he had hoped to avoid talking to. Not after what he just did with his son.

"Your Majesty," the Marquess said with a strained voice and bowed before King Wei Yong. He had to calm his wildly beating heart and swallowed nervously. "I... was about to take a short walk. I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, I hope you found your quarters comfortable?"

"Very, Your Majesty. I just have a lot... on my mind," the Marquess said and cleared his throat, conveniently blocking the door to his room _._ "Your Majesty is also still awake..."

"Ah, yes. I purposely wanted to speak with you."

"What about, Your Majesty?"

"Sarang, if it isn't too much to ask, I would like to request that you accompany my son to Valdavan. To where the rest of my family are," inquired the King.

"V-Valdavan? Escort His Highness to _Valdavan_ , Your Majesty?" Lord Sarang asked, suddenly feeling his chest constricting and his throat dry.

"Yes. I know you are to head out for Kaelaran, but let us discuss something of great import that might possibly settle things in this kingdom. I just wanted to ask you first if you could send my son to safety. Will you oblige an old man's request, Sarang?" the King asked expectantly.

"O-of course, Your Majesty."

"Excellent. I thank you, Marquess. Come with me, I have some Baijiu in my study to warm us up," the King said as he led the Marquess down the hall. "Now I know you are a battle tactician in your own right. There is something we need to... arrange and I'd like to show you some maps. We can talk about it more freely there."

Only one word was on the Marquess's mind that very moment. _Shit_.

 


	13. On Dangerous Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloo... back with an update! Sorry these take so long, i’m all caught up with my irl but that’s not an excuse i guess... anyway, hope you like this chapter! And heads up, more action and drama in the next ones which i hope i can post sooner if my muse doesn’t fool around and disappear again... y’all have a fun weekend! Thank you for reading and please share your thoughts if you’ve time. Much love! <333

 

 

The eerie mist rising above the calm waters of the Misty river was an enigma to all those who had seen or heard of it. The fog floated over the water like a white curtain creating an otherworldly atmosphere which sailors detested. On ordinary days, the white fog was thin enough so that visibility was relatively good. However, there were days when the mist would swell and thicken that it impaired vision for hundreds of spans. A skipper would have a sailor man the ship’s bell and constantly ring it in codes to warn oncoming vessels in order to avoid collision, despite the river being wide enough to let four or five vessels travel abreast. The thick fog snaked for over a dozen knots until the ship is clear of the mysterious smog, past the borders of Richū. It was perfect for concealing a small schooner laying in wait for an ambush to be undetected.

Captain Xian Chi squinted at the thick fog trying to discern figures of vessels which may come through it, grateful for its thickness that hid them as the schooner sat quietly near the banks of the vast river. They had been anchored for the third night in a row, waiting for the perfect moment for the one ship that he instinctively knew would pass their way. He had only one goal in mind. Kill the Prince and everyone on the ship that carried the Royal. He no longer cared if the Marquess was on it or not. The Captain will no longer hear any screeching from his General who had constantly berated him for his Lieutenants’ blunders. This time, he was not about to fail. If he perishes without succeeding so be it. He would gladly pass on the burden to another, he thought with a grimace. He would rather die than face his King in failure.

No, Captain Xian had not succumbed to defeat. It was only the idea in his head that this had been an utter and complete waste of time. He was fed up and tired of this foolishness. For weeks they had been scouting, tracking, catching up yet constantly failing in a cycle. Thus, he set up a plan in motion. One platoon was to lay an ambush just outside of the Eastern Barracks and the other team, his troop, would lay in wait anchored several knots from the barracks. All should have been well, but it never happened as he had hoped.

The worst part was a couple of days ago, a messenger informed him that the Prince had finally been held captive. The Captain was anxious and he almost headed for the ruins, but unfortunately he received the news that his Lieutenant who had the Prince had yet again been slain along with his soldiers. The Prince had escaped, presumably rescued by the Marquess. He had no other option now, except to intercept the Prince from the ferry docks. It was his last resort before the Prince could escape to the safety and confines of the Valdavan Castle.

“Captain, the lookouts have returned. There is a ship fast approaching at the speed of eighteen knots,” the first Lieutenant informed the Captain from behind. “They are about quarter of an hour away. It flies the Royal Crest of Richū.”

“Tell the skipper to unmoor and ready the men. Prepare the ropes and planks. We attack once we are board to board,” the Captain commanded.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Wait,” Captain Xian recalled his Lieutenant as an afterthought. “Lower the two rowboats to send men in advance and use the ropes to board the ship by the stern. Take them by surprise, before we go on full attack once board to board. Go now!”

“Yes, Captain.”

***

The skipper held tightly onto the wheel of The Spring Breeze as he steered the ship’s rudder through the Misty River with sweat breaking over his brows. He had an aversion for sailing through the dark fog at night and on normal occasions he would rather have avoided it. But a Royal command was not one he would have disobeyed. Thankfully, the river was as smooth as glass that night and it enabled travel over water with good speed and almost pleasantly. It were as though the ship was gliding effortlessly.

The reason for the river’s calm waters was not unknown though, for everyone knew it was deep and treacherous if ships weren’t careful making headway, especially during heavy storms or when the mist was almost impossible to see through. Unfortunately, that day was one of those where the thick fog impaired the vision that one could hardly see a vessel approaching quarter of a mile away, let alone discern where the riverbanks were. This made the skipper anxious. Especially when he had Royalty on board despite the two dozen or so Zhànshì warriors guarding the ship.

His Royal Highness Prince Sicheng however, was unmindful as he watched the dark waters froth and tumble as it lapped gently against the ship’s keel while headway and let the late spring breeze caress his smooth cheeks. He was standing on the quarterdeck by the ship’s stern, resting his forearms on the wooden rail with his thoughts as his only companion. Thoughts that he disliked dwelling upon, but failing to resist. The Prince rebelled against the recollections of what had occurred the previous night. Lustful and obscene, yet passionate and tender visions filled his aching head.

He should easily brush away such wanton behavior knowing it was hardly becoming of a prince. But there he was, eagerly throwing himself at a lesser noble who hated his very existence. Was he certain the Marquess loathed him? He would be surprised if the answer to that question was no. Had he been used to relieve physical necessity and thereafter just to be discarded like a wet rag? A resounding yes, despite what happened the night before, was a more suitable answer.

Prince Sicheng grimaced at recalling waking up to an empty bed while the sunshine filtered through the etched glass on the window, bathing him in warmth. What did he expect? Cuddles and sweet words whispered into his ear as his eyes fluttered open? From _that_ Marquess? He was the one who came onto the nobleman, made the first move and practically begged to be taken. He even professed his damned feelings without any form of proper response, invalidating his emotions like it was of little importance.The Prince snorted. _He hates me._

The Prince recalled stepping out of the Marquess’s room to retreat to his own. Down the hall, Prince Sicheng met his retainer who wore an expressionless face, but he obviously had an idea that something was not right. The Prince knew that those tiny eyes held reproval... reproach even. Prince Sicheng barely prevented himself from rolling his eyes at his stiff retainer. He didn’t need salt rubbed onto his wounded pride at the moment. And wounded heart.

“Bohai, have a bath drawn for me and I want my breakfast sent up. Afterwards, I...”

“Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence at once,” Bohai said formally after a deep bow. “His Majesty is in the study, Your Highness.”

The Prince felt his heart hammer against it’s confines. _What did father want?_ “Please tell His Majesty I shall be there shortly.”

Another bow accompanied by a ‘very good Your Highness’ and the retainer retreated to inform the King. Prince Sicheng watched his retainer as he walked limping, with tight lips.

What occurred afterwards in the study convinced the Prince that His Lordship, the Marquess of Sarang detested every fiber of his being. Prince Sicheng recalled entering the study and wanting to back out into the hall once more. The sentry announcing his presence prevented it.

“Sire, His Royal Highness...”

Prince Sicheng swallowed nervously while he entered the large drawing room as two pairs of eyes watched him. The low center table between the couches was littered with open maps and pin markers. Maps of Chazi. Prince Sicheng frowned. What were they for? Plans of attack?

His father smiled at him as he approached, and all thoughts escaped the Prince as he saw the change of expression on the Marquess’s face. From smiling with bright eyes at the King to his expression darkening like thick clouds before the storm when he saw the Prince.

It was an unnerving look that he received from Lord Sarang. The Prince’s lips quivered with uncertainty as he stared back at those dark eyes of the Marquess that seemed to bore a hole through his gut. It was obviously the look of abhorrence. Prince Sicheng ignored the Marquess. Instead the Prince looked up at the King who was standing by the fireplace with his arms akimbo, but he could feel the Marquess’s eyes on him. Prince Sicheng checked himself before he could visibly shudder.

“Ah, son. Good that you immediately came here.”

“Father,” Prince Sicheng said after bowing before the King and sat on the couch opposite the Marquess. “Marquess,” the Prince murmured and merely spared one glance at Lord Sarang in polite greeting.

“Your Highness,” the Marquess said almost curtly, who stood up to give the Prince a stiff bow before re-seating himself once again.

“Ready yourself, for tonight the good Marquess has agreed to escort you to Valdavan,” the King declared. “You shall set sail before midnight.”

Prince Sicheng was crestfallen but managed to keep his forced smile plastered on his face. He still avoided the Marquess’s gaze. “Thank you, Father. But I shall stay here with you. I can help...”

“Son, I... we have plans that might endanger you. If all goes well, you shall be safely in Valdavan with your mother and brothers,” the King elaborated. “The Marquess here guaranteed that he will see you safely there before he returns to Kaelaran.”

“Plans? What plans?” Prince Sicheng asked with a frown marring his brows.

“It’s best if you are not aware of them, Son,” the King said with mystery. “For your safety, you see. You must go to Valdavan where... it is better for you an your mother to be far from here.”

“I don’t need... the Marquess need not be bothered Father,” Prince Sicheng said, still wondering what information his father was unwilling to share with him, glancing at the maps once again. He gazed at the Marquess surreptitiously. The Prince almost missed it but he saw it. Oh he saw it indeed and it infuriated him. That cynical expression and the little smirk on the Marquess’s lips. But he also noticed the dark circles under Lord Sarang’s eyes. _Did he not sleep?_ “I’m sure the Marquess of Sarang has other... more pressing matters to attend to.”

“It has already been settled, Son. You needn’t worry, the Marquess is most willing and you shall be safer with him. Isn’t that correct, Sarang?”

“On my word, His Highness shall be kept safe, Your Majesty.”

_Safer with the Marquess? I don’t think so._ “But Father...” the Prince began but was interrupted by King Wei Yong.

“Please do as I say, Sicheng. There are well grounded reasons why I believe you should stay there in Valdavan,” the King said with finality. “Now, go and prepare for the journey. The Marquess and I have some more matters we need to discuss in detail.”

The Prince bristled at the dismissal but said nothing except, “yes, Father.” He stood up, bowed at his father and gave a small nod at the Marquess. “Lord Sarang.”

“Your Highness.” The Marquess gave him a polite bow.

Prince Sicheng could still recall clearly how the Marquess squinted at him before he left. They had not spoken to each other since they had left the barracks’ keep except for the necessary word or two with extreme civility.

The Prince recalled waving goodbye at his father who stood at the keep’s steps watching him leave. He rode out to the gates together with his two wardens Liang and Yiwu, the Marquess, and the rest of the usual suspects with the exception of Ting who had remained. Bohai was the new addition to their party. They had ridden in silence for the duration of the journey to the ferry docks. He had felt and heard the soft murmurs between the young Lords and Yukhei. Sometimes, he even caught the two Jeonso glancing at him with a knowing glint in their eyes that looked like... concern. Was he that obvious?

Even when he had bid his goodbyes to Lord Jeno and the young Viscount who were headed back to Kaelaran, the Marquess said nothing. He merely watched Prince Sicheng hugging them each tightly before they boarded on separate ships escorted by the Jeonso. Apart from his quick instructions to the warriors and his kin, the Marquess had been severely quiet.

It infuriated the Prince. How could this man be so callous? How was he able to switch on and off his emotions so easily? He had been so passionate just the night before and yet as cold as the ice-peaked mountains west of Richū. It were as if nothing had happened between them. The man was incorrigible.

Yet here he was, still longing for the Marquess’s touch. Wanting to be near him, yearning to be with him in a more intimate manner. He was smitten, and he realized it was impossible to resist the Marquess. Cold or no, he still felt his heart flutter whenever he caught a glimpse of the lithe nobleman looking at him with that strange expression.

“Damn you...” Prince Sicheng whispered into the soft chill of the night. “I should hate you.”

“Please don’t hate me, Your Highness,” the voice of Yukhei made the Prince jump and glare at the tall younger man beside him. “I was merely tending to the horses below deck.”

“I... don’t hate you, Yukhei,” the Prince said and cleared his throat. “I was thinking aloud.”

“I heard,” Yukhei said with a small smile.

“You should be below deck, resting,” said Prince Sicheng as he continued to watch the water gliding against the keel.

“So should Your Highness be sleeping in the Royal cabin,” Yukhei responded with a smile. After a moment, he continued. “His Lordship isn’t that awful, Your Highness. He just has a lot on his mind.”

The Prince whipped his head up to squint at Yukhei. _What is he on about?_ “And this concerns me because...?”

“Your Highness, if I may be so bold to say it, I can see that Your Highness and His Lordship have some kind of... I mean, developing an... affinity for each other. What I’m saying is... possibly... maybe... as I noticed, the both of Your Highness and His Lordship are somewhat attracted to...” Yukhei faltered as he licked his lips nervously upon seeing the Prince’s darkening expression.

“That is too bold of you to say indeed.”

“Please forgive me, Your Highness,” Yukhei said with his voice cracking and bowed before the Prince. “I’m merely trying to say that His Lordship is... he had a... an awful experience that makes him somewhat... eccentric. His Lordship is a complex man, difficult to fathom and at times he appears... uh... abrasive to those who do not know or understand him well. I must warn Your Highness that Lord Sarang’s mood might worsen, once we reach Valdavan.”

The Prince glared at Yukhei and turned to head for steps leading tothe small cabin below, adjacent to the ship captain’s.

“I really cannot see how this concerns me, Yukhei. I care not if your Lord Sarang is a spawn of the devil incarnate. I also am not... whatever you said,” the Prince spat, venom dripping in his tone of voice. “I believe I need to rest now.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Yukhei turned to follow the Prince, bowing as they took steps away from the rail. “I merely wanted to tell Your Highness.”

“Oh, shut up, Yukhei.” The Prince stopped on his tracks as he almost walked into the Marquess’s chest and gasped. “T-taeyong... I...”

Yukhei cleared his throat and receded further back the stern after mumbling, “I just remembered I wanted to watch the water frothing by the rudder. Excuse me.”

“Your Highness,” the Marquess said softly and the Prince felt shudders run down the length of his spine. Their eyes met and Prince Sicheng saw a glimpse, a quick moment when there was softness in those inky pools. But then it changed in a flash as it quickly dissolved into something else. The Prince caught the hard expression replacing the almost tender gaze. This time the Marquess had murder in his eyes, dark pools glittering hatred under the moonlight.

The Prince frowned as he watched the Marquess pull out the blades behind him. “Marquess, what on earth...”

“Step aside. Now.” The Marquess’s deep voice sounded dangerous.

“I don’t...”

“Move!” the Marquess hissed as he strode past the Prince, almost shoving him aside while twirling his blades in his hands.

The Prince’s eyes followed the Marquess as he sauntered lithely to the rail, and gasped at what he saw. A Chāzi soldier appeared to have climbed the port side of the ship, threw his leg over the rail to board the deck. The Marquess didn’t give the intruder any opportunity to set another foot on the deck. The Prince watched Lord Sarang lunge while his blades flourished two smooth outward strikes, easily slicing the soldier’s neck and torso simultaneously. The soldier clutched at his gaping neck, blood spurting out as he fell backwards over the rail and into the water with a splash. The Marquess took a peek overboard and saw a couple of rowboats by the hull.

“Fucking rats,” the Marquess whispered. About half a dozen Chāzi soldiers were scaling the hull using the fishing nets hanging by the port side. Others had already climbed over the starboard rail and began spilling onto the deck and attacking the sentries around the railing. Several Zhànshì yelled, “waylay!”

“What’s happening?” the Prince asked anxiously as he stared wide-eyed at the Marquess who walked back toward him.

Out of nowhere, the Prince’s warders Liang and Yiwu sprung with swords in hands.

“Your Highness, come with us,” Liang said with urgency.

“Your Lordship... the Cha—,” Yukhei also suddenly re-appearing blurted out with wide eyes as he unsheathed his sword.

“Take His Highness below deck! Now! And don’t let him out of your sight,” shouted the Marquess, interrupting Yukhei as he panned his sight over the deck. “We’re being ambushed!”

As though on cue, the sharp clanging of the ship’s bell rang throughout the night and the lookout sailor atop the mast shouted, “Chāzi schooner ahead! Chāzi are approaching!”

Alerted, shouts broke from the crew and the skipper yelled orders from the wheel to prepare for a fight. “All hands on deck! All hands! Draw your weapons! We fight! Protect His Highness!”

After that was organized chaos.

“Your Highness, please come with us,” Yiwu began while grabbing the Prince’s arm, trying to lead him to safety.

“No! I want to help!”

“Will you go to your damned cabin now and lock the door?” screeched the Marquess as he glared at the Prince. He turned to enter the fray, slashing and twirling at the Chāzi, cutting them down.

The tight-lipped Prince let himself be led by his own warders down the steps and into the small cabin. He was infuriated that he was being treated like fragile porcelain.

“Your Highness, please stay here where it is safe,” Liang said before he and Yiwu turned to leave, locking the door behind them as they stepped out.

“Damn it!” the Prince cursed, feeling so useless. He balled his fists as he paced the tiny space, worried and anxious. He could hear the fighting on deck clearly, clanging swords and pained cries of men who were cut down or injured. Why were his enemies so relentless? Haven’t they had enough? They had taken everything from him and his family, yet here they were again, spilling the blood of his father’s subjects. It was all so senseless.

The Prince then stopped dead and froze when he felt the violent tremors, rattling everything inside the cabin as though something large was being slammed against the hull. He took a peek thru the porthole and saw another smaller vessel banging against their own ship. The Chāzi schooner. He could see dozens of soldiers swinging from ropes attached to the the schooner’s rigging toward their ship’s deck. Planks had been secured over the two vessel’s rails to create a bridge where more soldiers were spilling onto the ship.

“Curse these vermin,” the Prince exploded as he slammed his palm against the glass port hole before turning away from it. This was all too frustrating, holed up in the cabin while his men are in danger. _Men or... the Marquess?_

“Damn it!” The Prince exclaimed. He had to do something, he thought while he commenced pacing the small enclosure once again. Yes, admittedly he was worried more for the Marquess than any other soldier. He cannot feel secure until he sees Lord Sarang is safe and unharmed. He failed to realize that he had to keep his own safety. People who were in love become blind to their own protection and it mattered little if they themselves were in harm’s way. Now where did I get that logic, the Prince mused. It was stupid but he believed it was a wise thought. Wasn’t it?

Giving out a loud expletive, the Prince strode to the narrow door and opened it to face Bohai blocking the threshold with a grim expression. A short sword was in his hand.

“You cannot go out there, Your Highness.”

“Get out of my way, Bohai,” the Prince said as he pulled out a knife from his right hip. “I need to help them.”

“You are in no position to endanger your life, Your Highness,” Bohai insisted, his small frame planted stiffly before the Prince’s taller form. “I cannot let you pass. The Marquess...”

“The Marquess?! Who is he to order you...”

“His Lordship’s command was to protect Your Highness and guard the door. It is a logical command. Your Highness’s wardens had to assist fighting the—.”

“Which is precisely why I need to help! Now stand aside Bohai, or I swear to the heavens above I will wring your neck!” The Prince yelled, nostrils flaring.

“My neck be wrung, but... No. I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“Stop being impertinent. I must help _him_ ,” the Prince grumbled and puckered his lips in irritation while he forced himself through between his retainer and the door frame. The slight-framed retainer almost stumbled back.

The Prince stomped along the tiny hall to the door leading to the deck. He pushed it but it would not budge. He tried to shove it open with all his might, but it appeared to be barred from the other side.

“God damn it!” the Prince shouted as he banged his fist against the door. “They... locked us in?”

Bohai frowned at the small door frame. “I do not think so, Your Highness. Unless some dead body...”

“Ugh,” the Prince groaned. He paused as he looked at the door frame, trying to decide if he could bash it with some furniture but then he realized all the fixtures were nailed to the floor. Then his eyes fell upon the hinges.

The Prince unsheathed the longsword gifted by the blacksmith which he strapped around his hip. Using the blade’s metal handle, he bashed on the hinges until it came off. Dropping his sword, the Prince tried to pry the door open from the frame.

“Bohai, hurry. Help me here,” the Prince directed his retainer who grudgingly re-sheathed his sword and helped his master.

A hard pull and the door stood ajar, the crack enough to let one person squeeze through. Before the begrudged retainer could protest, the Prince wriggled through the opening.

“Your Highness, don’t!”

The Prince paid no heed and stepped over the bodies of two dead Chāzi soldiers splayed over the steps leading up the deck. Carefully, the Prince surveyed the deck as he climbed up the short stairway to the main deck. It was a bloody state of disorder and fighting with dozens of bodies scattered about, mostly the Chāzi.

It appeared as though theirs was the winning side and few of the men were engaged by now. Guaging by the fallen, about forty to fifty Chāzi lay scattered about with a couple or so of his own men slain. Glancing at the schooner by the port side, it looked empty, with a handful of Zhànshì about obviously making sure there were no more Chāzi soldiers laying in wait.

The Prince sighed in relief. The battle must be almost over. But the Prince kept scanning the deck until he found the Marquess near the bow, whirling and leaping as he fought three soldiers with enormous bastard swords.

The Prince’s heart leapt when the Marquess side-stepped to evade a Chāzi’s powerful downward swing but then his other opponent swung his sword lower and almost slashed the Marquess’s small of his back. With great agility, the Marquess dipped and rolled to spring a lunge with two strikes at both his opponents, wounding them at the arm and leg respectively. Both gasped in surprise and motioned to attack once more, ignoring their injuries. But then the Marquess quickly tumbled over forward, stopping just before the two enemies on bended knee and thrust each blade beneath their leather armors into their guts, caught unaware.

The two men gargled as they crumpled on the scrubbed wooden deck, painting it with even more blood stains. His third opponent snarled as he raised the sword to strike the Marquess but the latter twirled while still on his knee and extended his foot to trip the Chāzi warrior. The soldier indeed tripped and dropped the sword as he fell with a thud, which consequently skittered across the deck. He tried to scamper toward it, but the Marquess, with lithe and graceful movements leapt, twirled and kicked the soldier on his head as he rose to stand up. The soldier consequently stumbled back in surprise. The Marquess leapt and spun closer to thrust the swords precisely between the soldier’s shoulder blade and clavicle to pierce the lungs. The soldier collapsed lifeless with Lord Sarang straightening up after wiping his blades on the enemy’s cloak to look down on him at his feet thereafter.

It was at that moment, as though by instinct or beckoning whispers of the heart that the Marquess looked up across the deck to meet the Prince’s gaze. Prince Sicheng caught his breath at such an enthralling sight. The Marquess in his black leather outfit and black hood shuddering softly with the breeze contrasting with the pale ash grey hair yet complementing those dark eyes with a penetrating gaze. His cheeks were flushed from exertion and glistened with beads of sweat running down his cheeks as he squinted at the Prince. All the Prince could think about was the strong urge to rush to him and take him in a tight embrace before kissing the sweat off the Marquess’s jaws.

Of course the picturesque sight was ruined once the Marquess realized the Prince was out on the deck. His look became charged with hot fury. The Prince swallowed nervously as he took a step back, suddenly afraid of the menacing figure that began striding toward him with the two bloody blades in either hand, slashing at some lone Chāzi soldier who tried to attack him. But the Marquess easily disposed of him with two killing strikes of his blades and even managing to dodge the attack while barely sparing a glance.

The Prince stood still, hampered by fear as the Marquess was headed midway toward him. Prince Sicheng stared as Lord Sarang’s expression suddenly transformed from malevolence into that of agitation.Then the Prince heard a muffled groan and the sound of someone crumpling onto the deck behind him. Frowning, it made Prince Sicheng turn to see Bohai lying unconscious by his feet. He was unaware of the figure who suddenly grabbed him from behind. The Prince gasped at the arm around his neck locking him in a tight grip till he could barely breathe.

Prince Sicheng saw his vision darken somewhat at the loss of precious oxygen as he fought and struggled against the strong being restraining him. The Prince kicked and flailed while he labored for even shallow breaths. _Air. I need... more air..._

“Let him go,” the Prince recognized the Marquess’s deep husky voice. Despite his predicament, the Prince could recognize the distress in the Marquess’s tone. “Let’s not be rash here.”

“Rash? Rash you say,” was the commanding voice’s reply near the Prince’s ear while it’s owner was holding out another strong arm threateningly with a longsword toward the Marquess. “I have been tracking you and this weakling for almost a month now, Marquess of Sarang... is it? I recognized you from that first day you escaped with this Prince from the balcony. You must understand, I need to take his head with me. Royal decree you see.”

Prince Sicheng flailed and choked. _I’m about to fucking die..._

“You... know me?” the Marquess asked with brows raised in question. “But I have yet to gain the pleasure of your acquaintance... sir... ah...?”

The bulky man snorted before he spat, “I... am Captain Xian Chi, _Your... Lordship_. And the pleasure will never be mine. You’re a menace. A freak noble with a thirst for blood. You’re nothing but a killer with a title.”

The corner of the Marquess’s lips lifted in a cynical smile. Somehow this Captain made even his title sound like an insult. “Ah, Captain. I apologize for foiling your plans and killing your men. _They_ were the menace, if you must know. It irritated me much to keep slaughtering them. It left a bad taste in my mouth to kill those not at par with the level of my skills, you see.”

“You’re an arrogant little prick, aren’t you. Very typical nobility.”

“P-please,” Prince Sicheng managed to verbalize with a croak. He kept slapping at the strong forearm that kept him from drawing sweet air.

“Shut up, Your Highness,” the Captain said harshly as he jerked the Royal violently.

The Marquess grimaced while the Prince gasped. Am I already turning blue, the Prince wondered. _How much longer till I die or at the very least faint?_

The Marquess held the Prince’s gaze then traveled down his thigh and back up again to give him a meaningful look. The Prince frowned. Was he trying to tell me something? Then Prince Sicheng recalled the daggers strapped to his thighs.

With painfully slow movements, the Prince let his right hand slide lower without attracting the attention of his attacker, he reached for the dagger and unsheathed it while the Marquess distracted the Captain.

“Did you know, Captain, why I kept my retainer Yukhei despite his tasteless humor and sometimes lack of intelligence and skill in scouting?” The Marquess began, twirling his swords in his hands and took one step closer.

The Captain took a step back, jerking the Prince backward with him. Unfortunately, the sudden movement made the Prince who had been weakened by lack of air, drop the knife he was already about to thrust into his attacker’s thigh. The Marquess almost groaned in frustration. Prince Sicheng wanted to cry.

“Idiot! You think you could stab me with that puny knife?” the Captain snarled at realizing the little ploy and gave a warning, aiming his sword at the Prince’s chest. “Stay back or I’ll kill this Prince right now.”

The Marquess ignored the Captain and continued to twirl the blades while he took another step closer. Once again the Captain took one step back, dragging the Prince forcibly with him.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Yukhei may be daft and insolent at times, but when I need him most he is always there for me,” the Marquess continued with a grin on his face, taking one more step forward. “He follows orders carefully.”

_What is he on about?_ Had the Marquess lost his mind, thought the Prince while he tried to fill his lungs with more air by way of shallow breaths, still trying to pry at the forearm encasing his neck in vain.

“Shut up, Marquess. I said... don’t come any closer,” the Captain said, eyes glittering with hate and confusion while visibly tightening his choke hold on the Prince who now appeared to be almost fainting.

“But what I love the most about him is that Yukhei is one of the stealthiest people I know,” the Marquess went on with his rambling. “Despite him being so... huge and ungainly, he can tread quietly behind you without you even knowing and catch you unaware to stab you in the neck. Just like so...” The Marquess discoursed with a demonstration of how Yukhei would have stabbed someone. The Prince frowned at the Marquess.

The sound of the soft gargle made the Prince wonder as he stole a glance at the Captain. The perpetrator released the Prince and his sword in favor of clutching at his neck which now had a gaping hole on its side. The Captain fell on his knees trying to breath, drowning in his own blood. Yukhei stood motionless, dagger in his hand, as he stared down at the Captain who twitched and thrashed in the throes of death until he lay motionless in a pool of his own blood.

“Well, the sailors will be doing a lot of scrubbing later on,” Yukhei quipped as he bent over to check on the unconscious retainer’s pulse. “Still alive, only knocked out. Are you alright, Your Highness?”

Prince Sicheng stared, perplexed at the sudden appearance of Yukhei while trying recall how to breathe until he swooned, only to be caught by the strong arms of the Marquess.

“You fool! I told you to fucking stay inside, haven’t I?” the Marquess blurted out as he held the Prince in his arms. “You could have...”

“S-so-sorry,” Prince Sicheng mumbled as he drew in much needed air in long deep breaths while he wrapped his arms around the Marquess’s waist, clutching at the thick woolen cloak. “Th-thank you, Yu-khei.”

“My pleasure, Your Highness, although it was the Marquess who told me what to do, really,” Yukhei said looking sheepish. “I was just standing there behind you trying to figure out how to save you. I’m actually really clumsy. But M’Lord, I’m not... daft... insolent and... ungainly, am I?”

The Prince gave a soft laugh as he rested his head on the Marquess’s sinewey shoulder. Then the Prince whispered hoarsely in between breaths. “I... I’m sorry, Tae-yong.”

“Yukhei, see to it that there are no more stragglers about. Make sure that the Prince’s retainer is alright and tell the skipper to set sail for Valdavan once all the dead Chāzi are disposed of,” the Marquess ordered his retainer while ignoring the Prince. “The wounded and dead Zhànshì can be sent home using the Chāzi schooner.”

“Very good, Your Lordship. I’ll see to it right away.”

“You. Come with me,” the Marquess said gruffly, almost dragging the Prince toward the cabin.

They stepped over the slain soldiers with the Prince almost stumbling over and entered the tiny room. The Marquess shut the door behind them. He dug out a small flask from his vest and let the Prince sip the rice wine which the latter drank gratefully, letting the liquid warm his parched throat. The Prince recapped the flask and set it down on the small table near him. He shivered at recalling he had almost died, if it weren’t for the Marquess and Yukhei. Once again, he was indebted to the Marquess. The one who hated him.

“Taeyong, I...”

“Haven’t I told you to stay in here? How many times must I save you before you actually kill yourself with your stupidity?”

Prince Sicheng gasped as he suddenly felt the Marquess’s hands digging into his arms and shook him in his anger.

“Do you know how upset I am right now? You were so close to dying again,” the Marquess declared emphatically. There was fire in his eyes as the Prince stared back into the dark pools, glittering by the lamplight shining from the lantern hung just above them.

“I... I’m sorry I made you upset.”

“You keep apologizing to me but you never really listen, do you,” the Marquess hissed. “Why do you keep doing this to me? Why did you even force the damned door open when it was already blocked from the outside?”

The Prince swallowed, or tried to with his raw throat. “I...”

“Tell me!”

Prince Sicheng gasped as he was shaken once more by the fuming Marquess, eyes still boring, still searching through his. “I... was worried... about you, alright?”

“What?”

“I was afraid something might happen to you and I... wanted to see you out there. I wanted to... make sure,” The Prince rasped and could see the Marquess grinding his teeth together. Prince Sicheng no longer cared. It didn’t matter anyway. His feelings were his own, and no matter what the Marquess thought, whether he liked it or not, the Prince loved him deeply. Unconditionally. “I was afraid of losing you so I thought I should go out and help. That’s what people who love someone do. Even if that... that someone did not... love them back.”

The Prince stared defiantly back at the Marquess’s searching gaze. He frowned at the confusion on Lord Sarang’s expression, as though he was still battling with his emotions all this time. “I’m sorry... Taeyong. I truly—”

Words were all lost from the Prince as the Marquess pulled him closer and sought his lips almost violently, pressing hard against his and bruising them as they were crushed against his teeth. The Prince moaned at the onslaught and despite the mild discomfort, his whole body responded to the assault. He missed the Marquess terribly. Missed the scent and taste of him.

The Prince clutched at the Marquess’s arms to support himself lest his knees failed and buckled underneath him. It were as if the Marquess chose to punish him with such a wild and rough kiss that deepened and softened as the seconds eased slowly by.

After a moment that seemed like an eternity, the Marquess released the Prince and stared with those shimmering eyes. “Do you realize how... how scared I was? I could have lost you just now. What would happen to me then, huh?”

The Prince, still reeling from the kiss, tried to focus on the Marquess’s words as they held each other in their arms. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You don’t know what will happen to me if I lost you. I would have been desolate without you, Sicheng,” the Marquess said huskily.

“I... what?”

“Are you daft? Lack of air muddled your reasoning? I love you and I can’t lose you, understand?”

The Prince could feel tears gather in his eyes and his resolve trying to break through his dazed mind. “You... hate me.”

“Why do you keep saying that I hate you. I don’t hate you. I never could. I’m in love with you, Sicheng. Aren’t you?” the Marquess declared earnestly.

“I am.. I love you. But... y-you... say you love me?” asked Prince Sicheng as he let his eyes roam over the beautiful face so close to his.

“Yes, Sicheng. I love you with every fiber of my being,” whispered the Marquess with a serious expression while he swept away the honey brown locks over the Prince’s eye with his fingers and then caressed his cheek with the back of his hand.

“But... you’re always so... standoffish and cold and uncouth... and...,” Prince Sicheng faltered.

“Do you really think that little of me, Your Highness?” the Marquess asked with arched brows and a cynical smile. “Am I really that loathesome? You just told me you loved me...”

“I did...” the Prince said breathlessly. “But why...”

“I... am foolish and afraid of my own emotions, Sicheng. I’m... a coward. My past haunts me so I try to protect myself from getting hurt again.”

“I’m sorry...” _Past? What happened in the past?_

“Don’t be. It’s all in behind me now. You are the present and future that matters.”

Prince Sicheng smiled at the Marquess. “And you, mine.”

“So, will you obey me now? Will you stay here and rest while I oversee the cleaning up the carnage outside?” asked the Marquess and planted a soft kiss on the Prince’s nose and chin.

I had wanted to do that himself, the Prince thought. But then he was overtook by strong emotions and sought the Marquess’s lips once more. Their kiss was tender and it held a promise of something more. Something which involved passion that they could share. Later.

“Alright, Your Lordship. I shall do as My Lord says,” whispered the Prince after they parted.

“Good,” the Marquess said softly and led the Prince to the bunk and let him lay down. “Now rest. I’ll come back when we are headway toward... our destination.”

“I love you, Taeyong,” the Prince whispered once more as he stared up at the Marquess who spread out the quilt over him.

“And I love you, Sicheng,” the Marquess responded then bent over to kiss the Prince on his forehead. “Rest well, my love.”

“Come to me later,” the Prince murmured, suddenly feeling drowsy.

“I will, love.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

With those words the Prince closed his eyes with a small smile on his face, knowing the Marquess always kept his word. Not long after the Marquess had shut the door behind him that His Royal Highness, the Prince of Richū fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.


End file.
